r 


LIBRARY 


OP 

CAUKXHtA 
.      SAN  DIEGO      . 


127   1244 


P5 


7 


A  COUNTRY    LAWYER.     Illustrated. 
FARMING   IT.     Illustrated. 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 


A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 


THE   SQUIRE 


A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 


BY 


HENRY  A.  SHIJTE 


Author  of  "The  Real  Did^ofa  Real  Boy  " 
"Farming  It,"  etc. 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS 


BOSTON   AND   NEW   YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 


1911 


COPYRIGHT,   1911,  BY  HENRY  A    SHL'TK 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 

Published  October  IQII 


DEDICATION 

I  DEDICATE  this  book  with  the  greatest  admira 
tion,  respect,  and  affection  to  those  citizens  of 
my  town  of  Exeter,  New  Hampshire,  who  in  the 
prime  of  middle  age,  or  in  the  fullness  of  years, 
did  so  much  for  the  welfare  of  the  town,  its  citi 
zens,  and  its  institutions. 

I  remember  them  as  the  officials  of  the  town, 
as  moderators  presiding  with  dignity  and  fair 
ness  over  the  deliberations  of  its  citizens;  as 
"seelict  men,"  careful,  shrewd  business  guardians 
of  the  public  needs;  as  conservatives,  arguing 
effectively  against  unwise  appropriation  and 
expenditure  of  public  funds;  as  justices,  holding 
petty  courts  with  awful  dignity;  as  lawyers,  pro 
found  in  legal  learning,  eloquent  in  argument, 
punctilious  in  the  ethics  of  their  profession;  as 
merchants,  behind  the  dusty  glass  partitions  of 
their  counting  rooms  poring  over  huge  books  of 
accounts,  while  their  assistants  toiled  amid  a  reek 
of  whale  oil,  soft  soap,  brown  sugar,  cider  vine 
gar,  leather  boots,  and  the  various  and  appetizing 
articles  of  commerce  embraced  in  the  term 
"W.  I.  Goods  and  Groceries." 

But  best  do  I  remember  them  as  God-fearing, 


vi  DEDICATION 

religious  men,  when  on  the  Sabbath  they  fared 
them  forth,  not  gaily,  but  sombrely,  to  church, 
clad  in  broadcloth  of  exceeding  sheen,  neck 
cloth  and  collar  of  snowy  whiteness,  and  stove 
pipe  hat  of  a  lost  design. 

"  Roma  fuit  et  Romani  fuerunt." 

HENRY  A.  SHUTE. 

EXETER,  N.  H.,  October  12,  1911. 


CONTENTS 


I.   "GuN  LAW" I 

II.   AN  ARRANGEMENT 12 

III.  A  Row 25 

IV.  SOCIETY  IN  ELMTOWN 42 

V.   COURT-ROOM  AMENITIES 61 

VI.   STATE  VERSUS  A.  P.  DRAKE    ....         75 

VII.   POLLY 104 

VIII.   IN  TOWN 124 

IX.   LEGAL  BEGINNINGS 149 

X.   MIXING 166 

XI.   THE  FIGHT 191 

XII.   TOWN  MEETING 210 

XIII.  A  VISITOR 227 

XIV.  BROKEN  TROTH 258 

XV.   A  CELEBRATION 275 

XVI.   RUNNING  FOR  OFFICE 290 

XVII.   COMPARISONS         .  307 

XVIII.   OUT  OF  THE  PAST 336 

XIX.   SAM  COMES  BACK 342 

XX.   A  CHALLENGE 357 

XXI.   His  BACK  TO  THE  WALL 371 

XXII.   COUNTY  SOLICITOR 381 

XXIII.  THE  GREAT  LEGAL  BATTLE         ....  394 

XXIV.  A  VICTORY 403 

XXV.   AN  ENLIGHTENMENT 409 

XXVI.   JUDGMENT  FOR  THE  PLAINTIFF  425 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

THE  SQUIRE  (p.  406)  .  .  .  (Colored  Frontispiece) 
HOLD  UP  YOUR  HANDS,  FURBER!  YOU  ARE  UNDER  ARREST!  6 
WHERE  ARE  THE  BOYS  WE  USED  TO  KNOW?  .  .  .60 
I  AM  A  SORT  OF  A  FARMER  .....  115 
HOW  IS  THAT  FOR  DRIVING  ?  .  .  .  .  .126 

THE  vicious  BEAST  ROSE  ON  HIS  HIND  LEGS        .         .       264 

IF   YOU   REFUSE   TO   RESIGN,   WE'LL   TIE   YOU   AND   GAG   YOU   378 

SAM  AND  POLLY  ........  428 

From  drawings  by  Irma  Deremeax. 


A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 


CHAPTER  I 

"  GUN    LAW  " 

BOTH  guns  spoke  simultaneously,  and  the 
crash  of  their  discharge,  followed  by  a 
heavy  fall  on  the  rough  board-floor,  set  the  hang 
ing  lamps  dancing  and  flickering  through  the 
eddying  smoke.  As  the  smoke  cleared  away,  a 
tall,  well-built  young  fellow  of  twenty -five  stood 
leaning  forward,  his  heavy  revolver  poised  for 
another  shot,  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  fallen  adver 
sary,  and  a  stream  of  blood  slowly  trickling  from 
a  deep  groove  in  his  cheek,  so  close  had  the 
Tarantula's  bullet  come. 

But  the  Tarantula,  so  called  because  he  was  so 
"pizen  mean,"  the  gun-fighter  whose  deeds  of 
blood  had  made  him  the  terror  of  the  mining- 
camps,  the  brutal,  cruel,  cold-blooded  desperado 
who  had  for  years  known  no  pity,  no  fear,  no  re 
morse,  lay  dead  on  the  floor,  a  crumpled  heap  of 
clothes,  his  fierce  eyes  upturned  to  the  ceiling  and 
wide  open,  his  heavy  jaw  fallen,  his  coarse  black 
hair  a  tangled  mop  on  the  boards,  his  knotted 


hand  clenched  upon  his  heavy  blue-barreled  re 
volver,  and  his  legs  in  the  boots  with  the  large 
spurs,  curiously  twisted  and  inert.  A  thin  stream 
of  blood  ran  from  under  his  left  arm  and  formed 
an  oozy  pool. 

For  a  moment  the  silence  was  intense,  and  then 
from  under  the  bar  crept  Pete  the  Barkeep'. 

"By  God!  he  got  it  at  last!"  he  said;  "and  a 
tenderfoot,  too !  Do  you  know,  young  feller,  who 
you  've  killed?"  he  asked  of  the  young  man  who 
stood  staring  as  if  frozen. 

"Is  he  dead?"  gasped  the  young  man. 

"Dead!  well,  I  guess  he's  dead  enough.  Dead 
er  'n  hell,  with  an  ounce  bullet  through  his  heart. 
I  guess  he's  dead  enough." 

"Well,  I'm  damned!"  said  a  huge  man  with  a 
black  beard,  who  had  come  out  from  a  corner  to 
which  he  had  retreated.  ''Tarantula  won't  sting 
any  more  with  his  pizen  gun.  Young  feller,  give 
us  yer  hand;  you've  done  a  damn  good  job. 
What '11  you  have?" 

But  the  young  fellow  had  knelt  by  the  dead  man 
and  was  feeling  his  heart  to  see  if  he  was  really 
gone.  He  lifted  the  heavy  head,  but  it  fell  back 
limply.  He  felt  the  pulse,  but  could  detect  no 
throb. 

Then  he  looked  up  in  the  faces  of  the  crowd  who 
had  gathered  around.  "Isn't  there  a  doctor  here 
in  the  camp?"  he  asked. 


GUN  LAW  3 

"  Naw,  stranger,  they  ain't  no  sawbones  here, 
'n  if  there  wuz  he  could  n't  do  anything  for  the 
Tarantula.  He'll  never  be  no  deader  'n  he  is  now. 
You  had  better  let  some  one  fix  up  your  face  and 
we'll  take  care  of  the  Tarantula." 

"My  face?  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  my 
face?"  said  the  young  fellow,  putting  up  his  hand 
and  bringing  it  away  covered  with  blood.  "I  re 
member  feeling  a  hot  streak  across  my  face.  It 
was  a  pretty  close  shot." 

"Yes,  sonny,  a  quarter  of  an  inch  the  wrong 
way  would  have  killed  you  as  dead  as  old  Go- 
liah,"  said  the  first  speaker.  "Now,  go  and  mop 
it  up  and  have  a  bandage  on,  and  we  '11  bury  the 
Tarantula." 

"All  right,  sir,"  said  the  young  fellow  in  a  dazed 
way;  "you  will  find  me  in  my  shack  when  you 
want  me.  I  shall  not  run  away."  And  he  went 
out. 

"Run  away,  --  I  wonder  what  the  cuss  means? 
A  feller  that  will  draw  quicker  and  shoot 
straighter  'n  the  Tarantula  ain't  got  no  call  to 
runaway.  What  you  s 'pose  he  means?  He  must 
be  a  bit  locoed.  P'r'aps  the  bullet  may  have 
jarred  him  a  little  outer  his  head.  He  run  away? 
Hell!" 

In  the  shack  Stanley  Furber,  for  that  was  the 
young  man's  name,  sat  staring  into  vacancy. 
His  face,  which  he  had  rudely  bandaged,  was 


4  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

white  and  drawn,  his  eyes  stared  with  an  expres 
sion  of  horror,  and  he  looked  like  a  man  who  had 
passed  through  a  long  and  dangerous  illness.  Oc 
casionally  he  passed  his  nervous  hands  across 
his  mouth;  again  he  would  rise  and  with  quick 
nervous  strides  pace  the  narrow  room.  Finally,  he 
flung  himself  on  the  bunk,  face  down,  and  lay 
there.  He  had  killed  a  man !  had  sent  a  human 
soul  to  its  last  account!  had  taken  human  life, 
and  his  hands  were  red!  red!  red!  and  his  soul 
stained  black!  God!  it  would  never  wash  out,  it 
would  never  wash  out,  and  he  should  see  forever 
those  fierce  glazing  eyes,  the  long  snaky  black 
hair,  the  inert,  crumpled,  twisted  form,  and  the 
red  pool  slowly  widening  on  the  floor.  His  hands 
clinched  the  covers  until  his  knuckles  were  white, 
his  jaws  tightened,  with  the  muscles  knotted  in 
his  cheeks  like  hickory  nuts,  and  a  great  shudder 
brought  the  cold  sweat  to  his  face. 

In  the  "Timber wolf  Saloon,"  where  the  affray 
had  taken  place,  the  coroner,  "Lazy  Bill  Good- 
hue,"  was  swearing  in  a  jury  of  three  men.  An 
acrimonious  dispute  had  arisen,  caused  by  several 
of  the  reputable  citizens  of  "Salted  Mine  Camp" 
profanely  desiring  to  know  why  in  the  blankity 
dashed  superlative-adjectived  Land  of  Tophet  he 
did  n't  have  a  jury  of  twelve  good  and  true  men 
instead  of  a  measly  little  dashed  blank  panel  of 
three.  Indeed,  a  general  call  to  arms  was  only 


GUN  LAW  5 

averted  by  the  coroner  assuring  them  that,  in 
case  the  jury  found  that  the  deceased  came  to  his 
death  by  violence,  it  would  then  be  necessary  to 
try  the  perpetrator  of  the  deed  by  a  jury  of 
twelve,  and  that  none  of  the  coroner's  jury  could 
act  in  the  larger  jury.  And  the  coroner  further 
informed  them  that,  owing  to  the  fact  that  there 
was  a  bullet-hole  in  the  dead  man's  chest  big 
enough  to  drive  a  loaded  burro  through,  which 
might  justify  a  suspicion  that  he  had  met  his 
death  through  violence,  the  empaneling  of  a  full 
jury  might  be  at  least  a  probability. 

The  jury,  properly  sworn,  then  proceeded  to 
view  the  remains  and  to  take  evidence.  The 
coroner,  possessing  a  few  pages  of  an  old  "Pro 
bate  Practice,"  had  culled  from  its  leaves  the  fol 
lowing  oath,  which  he  administered  with  marked 
effect  and  great  dignity  and  solemnity:  "You 
solemnly  swear  that  in  appraising  the  estate  of 
the  deceased  Tarantula,  you  will  act  faithfully, 
impartially,  and  according  to  your  best  skill  and 
judgment,  so  help  you  God!"  which,  under  the 
circumstances,  was  a  peculiarly  appropriate  as 
severation. 

The  inquest,  adjourned  from  time  to  time  for 
liquid  refreshments  at  the  bar,  was  brief  and 
effective,  and  the  verdict,  after  due  consultation, 
covered  the  points  in  a  truly  masterly  and  con 
vincing  manner:  — 


6  A   COUNTRY   LAWYER 

Wee  the  members  of  the  Corner's  jury,  drawed 
by  the  Corner  Bill  Goodju  commonly  knowed 
as  Lazy  Bill  Goodju  whitch  is  all  rite  for  Bill 
is  lazy,  to  find  out  the  caus  of  the  disease  of 
the  Tarantula  whoose  rite  name  is  unknew  to 
any  of  us  the  aforesaid  have  saw  the  body  and 
have  herd  the  testymony  of  them  whitch  seen 
the  row  and  we  find  that  the  said  Tarantula 
aforesaid  come  to  his  disease  becaus  he  did  n't 
draw  quite  so  quick  as  the  other  feller  whitch 
the  same  is  knowed  as  Stanley  Furber  and 
may  God  have  mersy  on  his  sole. 

Witness  PLACER  JIM 

PIZEN  PETE 
PIGEON-TOE  EVANS. 

As  soon  as  the  verdict  was  rendered,  the  sher 
iff,  who  had  loped  in  from  Spotted  Dog,  took 
upon  himself  the  arrest  of  Furber.  He  was  a  bold 
man  who  knew  the  need  of  caution.  So  he  drew 
his  guns  and  knocked  at  the  door  of  Furber's 
shack. 

"Come  in,"  said  a  muffled  voice,  and  he  en 
tered  with  both  guns  at  point.  Furber  sat  on  the 
couch  looking  at  him  quietly. 

"Hold  up  your  hands,  Furber,  you  are  under 
arrest;  hold  up  your  hands  or  I'll  shoot." 

"  Shoot  then,  —  I  don't  care  if  you  do.  There 's 
my  gun,"  pointing  to  his  sole  weapon  lying  on  the 


'••••.LLu'^1      ;        \iVW,("\\\':Av\'  S\\A\,    x      \''-VV^V0^5 


[OLD    UP    YOUR    HANDS,    FURBER  !    YOU    ARE    UNDER    ARREST  ' 


GUN  LAW  7 

table.  "  I  'm  glad  you  came,  Sheriff,  I  'm  afraid  of 
being  alone,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  relief.  "I've 
killed  a  man." 

The  sheriff  put  away  his  guns. 

"Say,  sonny,"  he  said,  "you  hev  killed  the 
dog-meanest,  pizenest  rattlesnake  in  two  coun 
ties.  There  ain't  a  man  here  to-night  but  what 
wishes  he  wuz  in  yer  boots.  Course  we  Ve  got  ter 
try  ye,  for  we  is  a  law-abidin'  cormunity,  but 
we'll  acquit  ye  and  the  boys  will  want  ter  hev 
some  sort  of  a  celebration.  There  is  one  thing 
tho'  thet  puzzles  us.  The  Tarantula  hed  a  gal 
baby,  a  two-year  old.  Ye  see  he  hed  a  wife,  a 
good  woman,  but  she  could  n't  stan'  him  and  ran 
away  a  while  ago  and  tried  to  drownd  herself  and 
her  baby.  She  wuz  pulled  out  too  late,  but  the 
baby  wuz  saved.  Thet  wuz  the  only  soft  spot  in 
the  Tarantula.  He  wuz  good  to  the  leetle  gal. 
What  bothers  us  fellers  is  what  is  to  become  of 
her.  'T ain't  no  place  fer  her  here." 

Furber  started  to  his  feet.  "A  girl  baby !  a  child 
in  this  camp!  Say,  Sheriff,  you  say  you  will  ac 
quit  me.  For  all  I  care  for  myself  you  might  hang 
me  and  it  would  be  all  one  to  me.  But  if  I  can 
take  this  girl  back  East,  I  will  devote  my  whole 
life  to  her,  I  will  bring  her  up  in  a  good  home, 
work  for  her,  slave  for  her,  make  a  good  woman 
of  her.  I  swear  it !  Don't  you  see,  Sheriff,  what  it 
means  to  me?  I've  killed  a  man!  I  must  make 


8  A   COUNTRY   LAWYER 

good,  and  this  sort  of  gives  me  a  chance  to  square 
matters  with  him." 

The  Sheriff  ruminated.  Then  he  rose,  took  a 
turn  round  the  room,  stood  over  Furber,  who  had 
sat  down  trembling  on  the  bench,  and  said, 
"Pardner,  yer  white,  by  God!  yer  white,  an' 
ye  've  hit  it;  shake."  And  he  put  out  his  brown 
sinewy  hand. 

So  that  is  why  the  overland  train  eastward  car 
ried  a  quiet  young  man  with  a  long  strip  of  plaster 
across  his  cheek,  and  a  beautiful,  black-eyed, 
black-haired  little  girl  of  two  years,  of  whom  he 
was  tenderly  watchful.  As  he  looked  out  upon 
the  flying  landscape,  he  thought  with  a  gleam  of 
amusement  of  the  kind-hearted  miners,  of  the 
amusing  but  earnest  trial,  of  the  brown,  hardy, 
devil-may-care,  honest  jurors,  Beetle-Headed 
Benny,  Sage-Brush  Joe,  Nugget  Jim,  Swivel- 
eyed  Pete,  Billy  the  Gopher,  and  the  rest  of 
the  picturesque  crew  who  voted  unanimously 
for  his  acquittal;  of  the  presiding  justice,  old 
Judge  Peters,  known  in  private  life  as  Bottle- 
Nosed  Pete,  with  his  shrewd  questions,  his  sensi 
ble  but  whimsical  charge  to  the  jury,  and  his 
kind  congratulations  to  the  prisoner  on  the 
result. 

And  his  eyes  filled  as  he  thought  of  their  kind 
ness  and  generosity  to  the  orphaned  baby  they 
had  intrusted  to  him,  —  and,  with  the  baby,  a 


GUN   LAW  9 

bag  of  dust  sufficient  for  her  needs  and  his  for 
a  long  time. 

Well,  they  were  out  of  his  life  henceforth,  and 
his  duty  was  plain,  to  care  for  the  child,  to  bring 
her  up  in  ignorance  of  her  parents,  in  happy  un 
consciousness  of  the  double  tragedy  that  would 
have  clouded  her  life,  and  to  make  the  most  of  his 
life  to  atone  for  having  killed  a  man. 

So  he  came  to  Elmtown,  where  he  took  lodg 
ing  in  a  good  family  and  set  to  work.  The  money 
he  invested  in  his  name  as  trustee  for  her.  His 
name  he  changed  to  Ira  Branch,  a  name  he  had 
once  heard  and  admired  for  its  strength  and  sim 
plicity.  Her  he  named  Mary  Esmond,  a  name  he 
took  from  Thackeray's  "Henry  Esmond,"  of 
which  he  was  very  fond.  He  had  no  relatives  and 
he  felt  that  his  secret  would  be  forever  buried. 
For  a  while  he  worked  in  the  mills,  studying  law 
evenings  and  on  holidays.  Not  a  penny  of  the 
fund  did  he  touch,  but  supported  himself  and 
little  Mary  out  of  his  earnings. 

To  do  this  he  worked  harder  than  a  galley- 
slave,  but  it  brought  him  content  and  even  happi 
ness,  —  content  in  knowing  that  he  was  making 
progress,  happiness  in  seeing  the  child  growing 
rosy  and  happy.  Then  he  had  been  admitted  to 
the  bar,  and  became  junior  partner  of  an  old 
lawyer  who  was  looking  for  a  sturdy,  reliable 
young  man,  with  broad  shoulders,  upon  which  he 


10  A   COUNTRY   LAWYER 

could  gradually  shift  the  increasing  burden  of  a 
large  practice. 

His  rise  as  a  lawyer  was  as  marked  as  his 
industry.  In  a  few  years  he  was  trying  almost 
every  case  of  importance  in  the  county,  and  was 
looked  upon  as  one  of  the  soundest  lawyers  and 
most  brilliant  advocates  in  the  state,  and  one 
bearing  the  highest  reputation  as  a  man  of  the 
strictest  integrity. 

Little  Mary  had  developed  into  a  beautiful 
and  accomplished  girl.  She  had  been  sent  to  the 
best  boarding-school  obtainable,  and  the  vaca 
tions  spent  at  home  were  the  bright  spots  in  his 
life  and  in  hers.  And  then  a  not  surprising  thing 
befell  him,  for  he  found  that  he  was  deeply  in  love 
with  his  beautiful  ward.  And  the  remarkable 
strength  of  the  man  came  to  his  aid,  and  he  reso 
lutely  put  aside  his  love  and  his  temptation  to 
win  her  for  his  wife,  though  he  felt  that  he  could 
win  her.  But  he  knew  it  would  be  a  black  crime, 
an  unforgivable  sin,  to  take  for  his  wife  the  girl 
whose  father  he  had  killed.  But  the  effort  grayed 
his  hair  and  left  lines  in  his  face  that  aged  him 
beyond  his  years. 

Mary  had  married  Howard  Anthony,  a  man 
of  good  intentions  but  of  little  character  and 
ability,  and  Branch  had  paid  over  to  her  the  fund 
with  its  accumulation,  now  amounting  to  a  com 
fortable  fortune,  and  for  a  few  years  he  comforted 


GUN  LAW  11 

himself  in  the  belief  that  she  was  happy  with  her 
husband.  But  rash  and  foolish  investments  had 
gradually  wasted  her  fortune,  and  finally  her 
husband,  in  a  fit  of  remorse  and  discouragement, 
died  by  his  own  hand,  and  Branch  was  sum 
moned  to  her  bedside,  where  she  died  in  his  arms, 
leaving  him  a  baby  girl  of  two  years  of  age.  And 
so  Branch,  now  known  as  the  "Squire,"  came 
back  to  Elmtown  with  a  baby  girl  in  his  arms  just 
as  he  had  done  twenty-five  years  before.  Then 
he  was  a  young,  untried  man,  now  a  respected, 
powerful  lawyer,  gray  and  saddened,  but  with  a 
new  purpose  in  life. 

In  all  these  years  he  had  told  but  one  man 
his  secret,  and  that  one  man  he  trusted  was  old 
Doctor  Barry,  then  a  man  ten  years  his  senior. 
Branch  had  been  taken  suddenly  and  violently 
ill,  and  when  the  Doctor  thought  he  could  do  no 
more,  and  told  him  how  slight  a  chance  for  recov 
ery  he  had,  Branch  had  then  told  him  his  secret, 
had  made  his  will,  and  had  appointed  Doctor 
Barry  his  executor  and  trustee,  and  had  asked 
that  he  be  appointed  guardian  of  Mary  Esmond. 

His  confession  so  lightened  his  burden  that  he 
fell  asleep,  and  when  he  wakened  was  stronger 
and  better,  and  in  a  few  weeks  was  at  his  desk 
once  more. 


CHAPTER  II 

AN    ARRANGEMENT 

THE  office  was  intensely  still.  Even  the  old 
Horton  wall  clock,  perched  high  over  the 
ancient  standing-desk  in  the  corner,  had  stopped 
ticking.  Outside  in  the  broad  triangle  where  three 
streets  met,  the  sun  was  burning  fiercely. 

The  immense  elms  shading  the  square  colonial 
houses  and  the  stately  white  church,  were  turning 
dusty  brown  under  its  blighting  rays,  and  the 
terraced  lawns  of  the  well-kept  yards  were  rusty. 
Only  the  ivy  which  covered  the  brick  walls  of  the 
Court  House,  and  hid  the  faded  red  under  a  thick 
veil  of  deep  green,  remained  fresh  and  bright. 

Outside,  the  tiny  fountain  in  the  centre  of  the 
triangle  gurgled  and  sprayed,  while  the  occasional 
roll  of  a  wagon  or  the  "clack  clack"  of  horses' 
feet  on  the  hard  roadway,  and  the  faint  and  dis 
tant  pulsing  of  the  mill,  were  the  only  sounds  that 
broke  the  summer  stillness. 

Within  the  office  a  man  of  sixty  sat  in  a  swivel- 
chair  before  an  old  mahogany  desk,  with  pigeon 
holes,  and  sliding  doors,  and  drawers  curiously 
and  beautifully  inlaid.  At  his  back  and  within  a 
turn  of  his  chair  was  a  broad,  flat  mahogany  table 


AN  ARRANGEMENT  13 

with  a  covering  of  green  felt.  Both  desk  and  table 
were  piled  with  papers  and  documents,  with  pens 
and  holders  in  spattered  china  trays,  and  leaden 
ink-wells.  At  his  right  hand  a  swivel-bookcase 
crowded  with  Public  Statutes,  Pamphlet  Laws, 
Text-books,  Legal  Forms,  Oliver's  Precedents, 
Probate  Directory,  Justice  and  Sheriff,  and  other 
legal  machinery,  swung  within  easy  reach. 

His  head  was  well-shaped,  the  hair  smoothly 
gray  and  carefully  parted,  as  was  the  white,  care 
fully  trimmed  mustache  that  partly  hid  the  out 
lines  of  a  firm,  well-shaped  mouth.  Across  the 
cheek  a  deep  scar  reached  to  the  curve  of  the  jaw. 
The  nose  was  a  trifle  large  and  slightly  aquiline, 
the  features  refined.  A  pair  of  gray  eyes  looked 
somewhat  anxiously  at  the  broad  back  of  a  young 
man  standing  staring  out  of  the  window. 

For  a  few  minutes  neither  spoke,  and  no  sound 
disturbed  the  perfect  quiet  save  the  gurgle  and 
splash  of  the  fountain.  Then  the  young  man 
abruptly  wheeled  about,  disclosing  a  pleasant, 
albeit  stern  countenance,  a  mop  of  wavy  brown 
hair,  and  a  pair  of  deep  hazel  eyes  and  a  strong 
jaw.  Not  a  handsome  face,  but  one  that  you 
felt  you  could  trust. 

"Then  you  say,  Mr.  Branch,"  said  the  young 
man  in  a  deep  voice,  "that  the  law  is  that  a  man, 
appointed  guardian  of  a  minor,  under  terms  of  a 
will  requesting  him  to  act  as  such,  is  nevertheless 


14  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

responsible  for  unfortunate  investments  made  by 
him  in  good  faith,  he  all  the  time  acting  as  guar 
dian,  and  performing  not  only  the  duties  of  guar 
dian,  but  also  those  of  father,  mother,  guide, 
philosopher,  and  friend  to  the  ward,  without  any 
charge  whatsoever." 

"Yes,  that  is  the  law,  as  I  have  said  from  the 
first,"  replied  the  older  man,  "and  the  decision  of 
the  Supreme  Court  is  unanimous  and  final,"  he 
continued,  indicating  a  pile  of  loose,  printed 
sheets  at  his  hand. 

"But  do  you  consider  it  a  just  decision?"  de 
manded  the  young  man. 

"Knowing  the  circumstances  of  this  particular 
case,  and  knowing  your  father  as  I  did,  the  deci 
sion  seems  a  bit  unjust,  but  as  a  decision  of  law, 
it  is  absolutely  right,  and  absolutely  just.  The 
statutes  of  our  state  are  explicit  as  to  what  in 
vestments  a  guardian  should  make,  and  when 
your  father  invested  funds  in  securities  other 
than  those  prescribed,  he  assumed  full  responsi 
bility,  although  he  unquestionably  acted  in  good 
faith  and  apparently  for  the  best  interest  of  the 
ward." 

"  But  father  did  all  this  without  pay.  Does  n't 
that  make  a  difference?"  insisted  the  young  man. 

"Not  the  least,"  replied  the  lawyer;  "your 
father  was  not  obliged  to  serve  as  guardian  or 
trustee." 


AN  ARRANGEMENT  15 

"  But  he  felt  that  the  terms  of  the  will  were  im 
perative." 

"He  was  very  kind,"  replied  the  lawyer,  "but 
there  was  no  legal  obligation." 

The  young  man  drew  a  long  breath  and  turned 
again  to  the  window.  The  fountain  still  gurgled 
and  splashed,  and  on  the  rim  of  the  iron  bowl  a 
row  of  dripping  and  bedraggled  sparrows  chat 
tered  and  fought  for  the  best  places. 

The  young  man  watched  them  idly,  and 
laughed  grimly  when  one  of  their  number,  crowd 
ing  too  closely  to  the  rim,  fell  in,  and  only  after 
a  hard  struggle  managed  to  crawl  out  again. 

Then  he  turned  to  the  lawyer.  "Well,  Mr. 
Branch,"  he  said,  "I  have  no  doubt  that  you  are 
right,  but  it  is  a  bit  of  a  facer  to  find  one's  self 
broke  as  soon  as  he  is  out  of  school,  especially 
when  he  has  had  no  particular  training  for  any 
trade  or  profession." 

:<  You  can  hardly  call  yourself  'broke'  or  *  pen 
niless, '"  quickly  replied  the  lawyer,  "there  are 
several  thousand  dollars  balance  to  be  paid  over 
to  you,  as  I  have  just  shown  you.  To  be  exact, 
just  forty -three  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  and 
eighty-five  cents.  Not  a  fortune,  surely,  but 
enough  to  keep  you  going  until  some  position  is 
offered  you.  With  your  friends  and  health  and 
strength  and  brains,  you  certainly  can  make  your 
way." 


16  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Oh,  I  suppose  I  can  earn  my  living;  I'm  big 
enough  and  strong  enough.  I  could  train  horses, 
or  become  a  Maine  woods  guide,  or  perhaps,"  he 
remarked  with  a  short  laugh,  "do  something  in 
the  ring.  I  have  a  half-dozen  cups  in  my  rooms, 
and  there  is  always  a  chance  for  an  ambitious 
heavyweight  with  science." 

"Well,"  said  the  lawyer,  "there  is  time  enough 
to  talk  of  that.  Let's  finish  the  business  in  hand. 
How  do  you  want  this  money,  in  cash,  certified 
check,  or  certificate  of  deposit?" 

"That's  anotherthing  we  have  got  to  settle  and 
settle  now,"  said  the  young  man.  "That  balance 
is  not  right,  and  you  know  it  as  well  as  I  do." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  quickly  asked  the 
lawyer,  while  a  dark  flush,  starting  from  his  neck, 
slowly  rose  to  the  roots  of  his  hair  about  the  broad 
forehead. 

"I  mean  this,"  said  the  young  man,  taking  a 
seat  opposite  the  lawyer  and  picking  up  a  type 
written  account  which  lay  on  the  desk;  "I  have 
examined  this  account  and  the  vouchers,  and  as 
far  as  they  go  everything  is  all  right,  but  you  have 
forgotten  one  important  item." 

"I  have  forgotten  nothing,  sir," said  the  lawyer 
coldly,  looking  the  young  man  squarely  in  the 
eye.  "  I  don 't  forget  things  where  other  people's 
interests  are  concerned." 

"No,  Mr.  Branch,  you  certainly  do  not,  but 


AN  ARRANGEMENT  17 

you  sometimes  forget  your  own,"  replied  the 
young  man  with  a  smile  that  lit  up  his  somewhat 
sombre  countenance,  "and  in  this  case  you  have 

forgotten  to  make  any  charge  for  your  own  serv- 

•       »> 
ices. 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,  young  man,  nothing  of 
the  kind,"  said  the  lawyer  hastily.  "  Here,  look," 
he  continued,  pointing  with  his  pen  to  an  item 
which  read,  - 

Counsel  fees  $2000.00 

Expenses  213.28 

Total  $2213.28 

11  Yes,"  said  the  young  man,  laughing,  "but  the 
vouchers  explaining  that  item  and  your  check- 
stub  show  that  the  entire  fee  of  two  thousand 
dollars  went  to  Covenant  and  Trover,  Attorneys, 
as  their  receipt  shows.  Now  where  is  your  bill?*' 

"H'm,  h'm,"  stammered  the  old  lawyer,  fum 
bling  with  his  papers,  "you  see  Covenant  and 
Trover  did  a  good  deal  and  accordingly  charged  a 
good  fee,  and  - 

"And  you  did  a  good  deal  more  than  any  of  the 
attorneys,  and  were  the  brains  of  the  entire  case, 
and  the  case  turned  out  exactly  as  you  said  it 
would,  when  Covenant  and  Trover  gave  an  opin 
ion  contrary  to  yours,"  cut  in  the  young  man 
quickly. 

"Well,  they  might  have  been  correct,  only  I 


18  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

happened  to  hit  it,"  said  the  old  lawyer;  "at  all 
events,  litigation  was  gone  into  and  great  expense 
incurred,  which  might  have  been  avoided  - 

"If  I  had  taken  your  advice,"  interrupted  the 
young  man.  "Now,  your  bill  is  to  be  reckoned 
in  the  account  before  I  accept  a  cent,  and  if  your 
bill  takes  the  whole  balance,  why,  well  and  good. 
I  suppose  I  could  borrow  money  enough  to  take 
me  to  New  York." 

"Now,  look  here,  young  man,"  exploded  the 
lawyer,  "I  knew  you  when  you  were  an  unman 
nerly,  stone-throwing,  apple-stealing  little  vaga 
bond,  and  I  knew  your  father  before  you,  and 
your  mother,  too,  and  I  'm  too  old  and  too  obsti 
nate  to  be  dictated  to  by  you  now.  And  when  I 
say  I  have  no  charge,  why,  I  mean  it." 

"And  now,  look  here,  my  dear  old  friend,"  said 
the  young  man,  with  a  winning  smile,  "you  did 
know  my  father  and  you  were  his  best  friend,  and 
my  mother's  best  friend,  too,  and  have  done  more 
for  them  and  for  me  than  I  can  ever  repay,  and 
whe.n  I  refuse  to  put  myself  under  further  obliga 
tions  to  you,  I  mean  what  7  say." 

"Well,  well,  boy,"  said  the  lawyer,  "if  you  put 
it  that  way,  I  will  make  a  charge.  What  do  you 
say  to  five  hundred  dollars?  Come,  that's  a  good 
sensible  charge,  not  too  large  and  not  too  small. 
Full  large  enough  for  what  I  did.  Come,  I  will 
write  you  a  receipt  at  once." 


AN  ARRANGEMENT  19 

"Five  hundred  grandmothers!"  shouted  the 
young  man;  "not  too  large!  Great  Caesar's 
ghost!  what  do  you  take  me  for?  I  should  say  it 
was  n't  too  large,"  and  he  lay  back  in  his  chair 
and  laughed  the  first  genuine  laugh  of  the  con 
ference. 

"Well,"  said  the  old  lawyer,  testily,  "what  do 
you  want  me  to  charge?" 

'Twenty -five  hundred  dollars,"  said  the  young 
man  promptly. 

"An  outrage!  I  won't  do  it,"  sputtered  the 
lawyer. 

"Not  a  cent  less  if  you  expect  to  settle  with 
me,"  insisted  the  young  man. 

"Now,  son,"  said  the  old  lawyer,  "I  never 
have  charged  an  exorbitant  or  unconscionable 
fee  in  my  life  and  I'm  not  going  to  begin  at  my 
time  of  life." 

"I  can  well  believe  it,"  laughed  the  young 
man. 

"Call  it  seven  fifty,"  suggested  the  old  lawyer, 
reaching  for  a  receipt  pad. 

''Twenty -five  hundred,"  insisted  the  young 
man. 

"A  dollar  above  seven  fifty  would  be  extor 
tion,"  protested  the  old  lawyer. 

"  How  about  Covenant  and  Trover's  two  thou 
sand?"  queried  the  young  man  with  a  smile. 

"Why,  confound  you,  for  an  obstinate  young 


20  A   COUNTRY   LAWYER 

rascal,"  roared  the  old  lawyer,  "I  told  you  they 
did  all  the  work!" 

"But  they  didn't,  just  the  same,"  persisted 
the  young  man. 

"What  do  you  know  about  it,  anyway,"  re 
torted  the  old  lawyer,  "when  you  were  at  New 
port  or  Saratoga,  playing  poker  or  polo,  or  kitin' 
round  behind  a  dock-tailed  horse?" 

"Who  tried  the  case  before  the  master  and 
then  tried  and  argued  it  in  the  Superior  Court? 
Who  made  the  brief  and  argued  the  case  in  the 
Supreme  Court,  and  who  put  months  of  hard 
work  into  it?  Not  Covenant  and  Trover,  but  Mr. 
Ira  Branch,  Attorney  and  Counselor  at  Law. 
Covenant  and  Trover's  bill  was  all  right,  and 
your  bill  ought  not  to  be  a  cent  less  than  five 
thousand  dollars." 

"Well,  call  it  one  thousand,"  said  the  old 
lawyer. 

"Not  a  cent  less  than  twenty-five  hundred," 
said  the  young  man  firmly. 

Their  eyes  met  and  held  each  other.  The  gray 
eyes  firm  and  hard,  the  hazel  good-natured,  but 
without  a  sign  of  yielding.  Long  they  looked 
until  the  young  man  pushed  a  receipt  pad  before 
the  old  lawyer. 

The  gray  eyes  changed.  Slowly  an  affection 
ate,  half-humorous  glint  softened  the  steel  of 
their  glance. 


AN  ARRANGEMENT  21 

"Confound  you,  for  a  stiff-backed  young 
reprobate,"  growled  the  old  lawyer,  as  he  wrote 
out  a  receipt  for  twenty -five  hundred  dollars,  then 
entered  the  amount  to  the  credit  side  of  the  ac 
count,  "but  I  feel  as  if  I  had  robbed  a  bank." 

"Now,  Mr.  Branch,"  said  the  young  man, 
after  he  had  approved  the  account.  "Give  me 
one  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  and  eighty-five 
cents,  deposit  the  balance  of  seventeen  hundred 
in  the  local  bank  in  my  name  and  give  me  the 
book  to-morrow." 

"Which  bank,  National,  I  suppose?"  queried 
the  old  lawyer. 

"Savings  Bank,"  replied  the  young  man.  "I 
suppose  I  can  get  a  little  interest  there." 

"Not  unless  you  keep  it  there  at  least  six 
months,  and  then  only  at  the  rate  of  three  and 
a  half,  or  possibly  four  per  cent,"  answered  the 
old  lawyer. 

"For  how  much,  Squire  Branch,  or  rather  for 
how  little  can  a  man  live  in  this  town  for  a 
year?"  asked  the  young  man,  picking  up  a  pen 
cil  and  drawing  a  pad  towards  him. 

"Meaning?"  said  the  Squire. 

"Meaning  any  ordinary  young  man  of  my 
age,  and  not  counting  any  income  from  labor," 
said  the  young  man. 

"Well,"  said  the  old  lawyer  judicially,  "he 
could  get  a  good  room  and  board  for  six  dollars 


22  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

at  the  hotels,  or  from  four  fifty  to  five  at  a  pri 
vate  house.  Call  it  six.  That  is  three  hundred 
and  twelve  dollars  a  year.  Three  hundred  would 
cover  it.  One  hundred  and  twenty-five  for 
clothes  and  shoes,  and  incidentals,  would  bring  it 
where  you  wish,  five  fifty  to  six  hundred  dollars. 
There  are  people  here,  clerks  and  workingmen, 
who  bring  up  a  family  on  five  hundred  dollars. 
Why  do  you  ask,  —  you  are  not  thinking  of  living 
in  the  country,  are  you?"  he  asked  smilingly. 

:'Yes,  I  am  very  seriously  considering  it," 
answered  the  young  man  promptly;  "why  not?" 

"What  could  you  do? — farm  or  learn  a  trade? 
We  have  machine  works,  a  cotton  mill,  a  shoe 
factory,  a  grist  mill  and  two  planing  mills,"  and 
the  old  lawyer  smiled  quizzically  and  crossed  one 
long  leg  over  the  other. 

The  young  man  flushed  a  bit  as  he  answered, 
"I  know  I  have  been  wasting  a  good  deal  of  time 
in  athletics,  and  general  uselessness,  but  I  Ve  got 
muscle  enough  to  pitch  hay  or  dig  ditches,  and 
can  do  it  if  necessary;  but  I  don't  intend  to  if  I 
can  help  it.  I  want  to  study  law  with  you.  Will 
you  let  me?" 

The  old  lawyer's  eyes  narrowed  to  slits  and  he 
looked  fixedly  at  the  young  man.  "Have  you 
thought  this  over?"  he  demanded  at  last. 

'Yes,  Squire  Branch,  more  than  you  think. 
Ever  since  the  litigation    commenced,   I   have 


AN  ARRANGEMENT  23 

thought  of  it.  Not  even  as  probable,  however, 
until  to-day.  I  suppose  the  laziest,  most  idle 
of  men  has  working  dreams  some  time,"  he  said 
slowly. 

"But  could  you  stand  the  hard  work,  the 
drudgery,  the  months,  possibly  years  of  wait 
ing?"  expostulated  the  Squire. 

"I  believe  so;  I  really  do  believe  that  right 
down  in  my  heart  I  have  been  homesick  for 
something  to  do,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a 
smile  that  partly  veiled  his  earnestness. 

"This  is  something  I  confess  I  never  thought 
of  and  I  must  think  it  over.  I  did  say  I  would 
never  have  another  student  after  Villars  left  me, 
but  —  I  knew  your  father.  Well,  you  must 
think  it  over  as  well  as  I.  It's  a  grand  profes 
sion.  The  greatest,  I  do  believe,  and  the  public 
believes  that  any  man  who  can  pass  the  examina 
tions  can  become  a  lawyer.  Examinations!  why 
man,  man,  a  lifetime  of  study  and  experience 
is  not  time  enough  to  become  a  lawyer.  Well, 
think  it  over  and  come  to  supper  with  me  to 
morrow  night  at  six.  Mind,  not  a  word  before 
that  time.  Meet  me  here  at  the  office  at  about 
six  and  we  will  walk  up." 

The  young  man  and  the  old  lawyer  rose  and 
shook  hands.  Then  with  a  nod,  the  former  left 
the  office  and  ran  lightly  down  the  dusty  stairs 
and  out  upon  the  pleasant  street. 


24  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Left  alone  the  old  lawyer  walked  to  the  win 
dow  and  stood  looking  out  on  the  square.  The 
sparrows  still  splashed  on  the  rim  of  the  foun 
tain,  a  flock  of  slaty  pigeons  greedily  crowded 
and  pushed  over  a  handful  of  grain  jolted  from  a 
passing  wagon,  and  a  horse,  tethered  to  a  stone 
post,  stamped  uneasily. 

"I  love  this  old  square,"  he  muttered,  "and  I 
love  this  old  town,  it  is  home,  home." 

From  without  came  the  homely  song  of  the 
chipping  sparrow. 


CHAPTER  III 

A    ROW 

DOWN  the  quiet  street  went  the  young  man 
with  shoulders  back,  head  up,  and  brisk 
step,  swinging  the  heavy  grip  as  if  it  weighed 
nothing.  Storekeepers  and  clerks  in  short 
sleeves  or  alpaca  coats,  lounging  in  the  doors  of 
their  modest  emporiums,  glanced  curiously  at 
him,  and  whispered  inquiringly. 

Two  young  and  rather  pretty  girls  in  white 
dresses  and  white  tennis  shoes,  sipping  from  their 
glasses  at  the  soda  fountain  of  a  drug  store, 
gazed  admiringly  at  him  as  he  passed. 

He  crossed  the  street  at  the  lower  bridge  and 
walked  rapidly  towards  the  Columbian  House. 
This  modest  hotel  stood  but  a  few  hundred  feet 
from  the  office,  and  its  large  and  showy  but  some 
what  faded  sign  announced  that  "Entertainment 
for  Man  and  Beast"  could  be  obtained  of  Alvin 
Dole  for  a  moderate  stipend.  Beyond  this  large 
rambling  building,  with  its  three  short  flights  of 
steps  leading  to  three  small  piazzas,  was  a  passage 
way  leading  to  stables,  at  the  entrance  to  which 
passageway  a  swinging  and  gaudily  painted  sign 
displayed  an  impossible  charger  with  flying 


26  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

mane  and  tail,  foaming  mouth  and  crimson 
dilated  nostrils,  and  the  lurid  information  that 
somewhere  in  the  rear,  following  the  direction 
of  the  index  finger  of  a  pointing  hand,  was  a 
"Livery,  Sale,  Boarding  and  Baiting  Stable." 
Under  this  lucid  statement  hung  a  smaller  and 
more  recent  sign  eulogistic  of  a  certain  "Win.  J. 
Bluffin,  Emperor  of  Equine  surgeons  Bar  None." 

Beyond  was  a  long,  two-storied  building,  the 
lower  half  an  open  shed  for  the  storage  of  large 
four-horse  barges  and  hacks,  the  upper  half  a 
billiard  hall,  suitably  emblazoned  in  scarlet  let 
ters  on  a  blue  sanded  sign  informing  an  anxious 
and  waiting  public  that  "Billiards  and  Pool" 
were  presumably  for  sale.  The  public  was  also 
informed  in  smaller  and  bright  yellow  letters,  in 
a  corner  of  this  sign,  that  it  was  painted  by  "I.T. 
Pembleton,  Painter,  Grainer,  Glazier,  and  Paper- 
Hanger,"  and  who  further  allayed  any  anxiety  or 
doubt  that  the  public  might  have  entertained  as 
to  his  ability  or  willingness,  by  adding  the  reas 
suring  statement  that  "No  Job  was  too  Large 
and  None  too  Small,"  which  was  exceedingly 
enterprising  and  doubly  kind  in  him. 

On  the  piazza  sat  a  pleasant-faced  man,  with 
shaved  upper  lip  and  chin  beard,  who  was  urging 
a  nervous,  excitable  man,  who  evidently  was  in  a 
hurry,  to  "Hold  on  a  minute,  there  is  plenty  of 
time."  Scattered  over  the  piazza  and  steps  were 


A   ROW  27 

other  men,  some  old  and  gray,  some  younger,  but 
all  with  the  unmistakable  mark  of  hotel  loung 
ers,  as  they  sat  hunched  up,  with  their  heads  sunk 
between  their  shoulders  and  their  rusty  hats 
drawn  over  their  eyes. 

The  young  man  approached  the  steps  to  the 
main  entrance,  and  as  they  were  covered  with 
loungers,  and  as  nobody  arose  to  make  room  for 
him,  he  turned  aside,  stepped  up  the  gullied  bank 
ing,  strode  over  a  huge  burdock,  leaped  upon  the 
piazza  and  made  his  way  to  the  office. 

The  room  was  empty.  A  wide  room,  with  two 
small  front  windows  and  one  opening  into  the 
passageway.  Across  the  room  from  the  front 
windows  was  a  large  railway  stove  with  foot-rest 
worn  smooth  by  the  pressure  of  rubber  boots  and 
cowhide  stogies.  An  iron  rail,  bolted  to  the  floor, 
marked  an  inclosure  of  narrow  boards  filled  with 
tobacco-stained  sawdust. 

In  the  corner  was  a  fixed  small  desk  with  a 
double-slanted  top,  a  top  rail,  and  a  counter 
curving  towards  the  wall,  leaving  a  narrow  en 
trance  for  the  clerk.  On  the  outer  slant  of  the 
desk  lay  a  register  open  at  the  date  of  August  25, 
with  the  words,  "Fair  --  Wind  Westerly,"  writ 
ten  across  the  top.  A  small  ink-bottle,  some  ex 
ceedingly  rusty  pens,  and  a  much  stained  blotter 
rested  on  the  top  of  the  desk. 

Between    the    front    windows    was    a    small 


28  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

mahogany  table,  over  which  hung  a  mirror  with  a 
triangle  chipped  from  one  corner  and  a  crack  ex 
tending  diagonally  across  the  surface,  plentifully 
fly-specked.  Back  of  the  stove  hung  quarter- 
sheet  advertisements  of  auction  sales,  a  litho 
graph  of  Polly  Sidwell  in  East  Lynne  at  the  town 
hall  on  the  16th  of  March  previous,  and  a  sten 
ciled  announcement  that  the  Kickapoo  Indians 
were  to  give  an  entertainment  in  Merrill's  Hall 
for  the  week. 

There  were  three  other  doors  to  the  room  be 
sides  the  door  through  which  the  young  man 
entered.  One  door  opened  to  a  little  passageway 
leading  to  the  side  steps,  one  led  to  a  small 
wash-room,  where  two  cracked  and  dingy  bowls 
were  surmounted  by  tarnished  faucets,  above 
which  hung  worn  brushes  and  semi-toothless 
combs  chained  to  the  wall.  Beyond  these  hung 
a  roller-towel,  stained  and  crimped  by  wet  hands, 
and  exceedingly  frayed  and  dingy. 

The  third  door,  in  the  centre  of  the  rear  wall 
bore  the  inscription,  "Barroom,"  which  was  an 
unnecessary  expense  and  trouble,  as  the  charac 
ter  of  the  room  was  sufficiently  evidenced  by  a 
most  penetrating,  sweetish,  acrid  odor  of  rum, 
gin,  and  whiskey. 

The  young  man  noted  all  these  things  curi 
ously  and  with  interest  as  he  waited  for  the  pro 
prietor  or  clerk.  At  last,  as  nobody  came  and  as 


A  ROW  29 

the  argument  on  the  front  steps  became  warm,  he 
stepped  to  the  front  entrance  and  asked  if  the 
proprietor  or  clerk  was  in  the  building. 

"Yes,  yes,  sir.  Hold  on  a  minute,  he  ought  to 
be  around,"  said  the  pleasant-faced  man,  evid 
ently  the  proprietor.  "Charles!  Hey,  Charles! 
where  in  thunder  be  ye?"  he  squealed  in  a  high- 
pitched  voice.  "Ed!  Ed!  Ain't  Ed  there  neither?" 
he  demanded  querulously.  "It's  almighty  queer 
that  out  of  all  the  lazy  cusses  I  support  I  can't 
get  any  one  to  tend  office.  Newt,"  he  continued, 
addressing  a  gray-mustached,  soot-stained  man 
with  blackened  arms  and  leather  patches  on 
his  knees,  "d'ye  know  where  Charles  and  Ed 
is?" 

"Now,  Alvy,  I  dunno  where  Charles  is,  'n  I 
don't  give  a  cuss,"  sulkily  answered  Newt,  "but 
Ed,  just  two  minutes  ago,  drove  the  Chase  mare 
and  led  Johnny  Roach  down  to  the  blacksmith's 
to  git  'em  shod." 

"H'm,  h'm;  just  like  that  worthless  boy  to  be 
out  when  he's  wanted,"  grumbled  Alvy. 

"But,  Alvy,  I  heered  ye  tell  him  to  go  not 
more'n  fi'  minutes  ago,"  insisted  Newt. 

Alvy  made1  no  reply  beyond  a  scornful  sniff, 
and  rising  slowly  came  into  the  office.  "Well,  sir, 
what  can  I  do  for  ye?"  he  asked  pleasantly  of 
the  young  man. 

"Why,  I  thought  I  would  like  to  stay  here  a 


30  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

day  or  two.  I  suppose  you  put  people  up  occa 
sionally?"  asked  the  young  man. 

"Sartin,  sir,  sartin;  we  can  furnish  you  a  good 
room  and  board  for  dollar  and  quarter  to  dollar 
'n  half  a  day,  'cordin'  to  location  of  room.  Want 
to  register?  Here  you  are,  sir,"  indicating  the 
open  book. 

The  young  man  laughed,  took  up  a  rusty  pen, 
dipped  it  in  the  ink-bottle,  fished  up  a  deceased, 
ink-drenched,  and  bedraggled  fly,  with  which  he 
made  a  ghastly  smear  on  the  white  surface  of  the 
book. 

"Hold  on  a  minute,  hold  on  there;  whatcher 
got  on  that  pen?"  expostulated  Alvy. 

"Sorry,"  said  the  young  man  with  a  laugh; 
"that's  more  of  a  fly -track  than  I  usually  make," 
and,  shaking  the  fly  from  the  pen,  wrote  in  a 
bold  hand  his  name,  "Samuel  Randolph,"  then 
paused  a  moment  while  Alvy,  looking  over  his 
shoulder,  waited,  and  then  slowly  wrote  "Elm- 
town,  N.  H." 

"Live  here,  Mr.  Randolph?"  queried  Alvy  in 
surprise. 

"No,  not  exactly,"  replied  Sam  with  a  smile, 
"but  I  am  considering  the  matter  of  remaining." 

"What  business?" 

"None  at  present." 

"Looking  for  a  job?" 

"I  would  consider  a  good  offer." 


A   ROW  31 

"Know  anything  about  horses?" 

;' Yes;  I  have  ridden  and  driven  a  good  many." 

"Don't  want  to  buy  out  a  livery  stable,  do 
you?" 

"No,  I'd  be  the  last  one  to  run  a  livery 
stable." 

"  Why?  there 's  money  in  it  for  the  right  man." 

"I  guess  I'm  not  the  right  man,  then." 

"Why  not?  Ye  can't  tell  till  ye  try  it." 

"The  main  reason  is,  that  the  first  man  who 
brought  a  horse  in  blown  or  with  whip-marks  on 
him,  would  have  the  price  of  the  trip  taken  out  of 
his  hide." 

"Shake,"  said  Alvy,  proffering  a  remarkably 
well-shaped  hand,  "that's  my  complaint  ex 
actly." 

"  Now,"  said  Sam,  after  he  had  cordially  gripped 
Alvy's  hand, "  what  can  you  give  me  for  a  room?  " 

"Lessee,  there's  number  34  in  front,  and  num 
ber  19  back,  the  only  rooms  I  have  now;  ye  see 
them  Kickapoo  Indians  has  most  of  the  rooms  for 
a  week.  After  that,  if  ye  stay,  I  can  do  better  'n 
that  for  ye.'* 

"Well  I'll  look  at  the  back  room.  I  think  if  it 
overlooks  the  stable-yard  it  will  be  more  inter 
esting  than  the  view  of  the  engine-house  oppo 
site,"  said  Sam. 

"Waal,  I  guess  it'll  suit  ye,"  said  Alvy  as  they 
trailed  upstairs. 


32  A   COUNTRY   LAWYER 

Number  19  back  was  large  and  well-lighted, 
with  a  comfortable  bed,  washstand,  bureau,  and 
small  table,  with  a  bright,  an  almost  too  bright 
carpet.  It  overlooked  the  stable-yard,  where 
stablemen  were  sitting  in  chairs  leaning  against 
the  stable,  wherein  horses  stamped  and  switched 
sleepily. 

Sam  at  once  decided  in  favor  of  number  19  and 
left  his  grip  there.  As  he  went  down  the  stairs  he 
inquired  whether  or  not  the  Kickapoos  would 
indulge  in  any  war-dances  or  war-whoops  during 
the  night,  and  was  assured  by  Alvy  that  they 
were  the  quietest,  best-natured  people  in  the 
world. 

"Why,  Big  Chief  Battle-Axe  looks  just  like  an 
Irish  feller  who  used  to  work  for  me,  only  he  is 
copper-colored  and  toes  in.  One  thing,  Mr.  Ran 
dolph,  I  want  to  warn  ye  about.  The  old  Chief 
will  come  up  and  want  to  shake  hands  with  ye, 
and  he  has  got  an  almighty  grip,  and  he  '11  make 
ye  holler.  So  look  out.  It's  fun  for  the  boys, 
though,"  said  Alvy  with  a  chuckle. 

"All  right,  and  thank  you,  Mr.  Dole,"  said 
Sam.  "I'll  look  out  for  him." 

Sam  left  the  hotel  and  the  loungers  and 
strolled  down  the  street.  Passing  through  the 
square  and  up  the  main  street,  he  noted  the  fine 
square  houses,  the  neatly  kept  lawns  with  the 
revolving  sprinklers,  the  magnificent  drooping 


A   ROW  33 

elms  and  feathery  maples.  At  the  head  of  the 
square  stood  another  and  larger  hotel,  a  three- 
story  brick  building  known  as  the  Rumscott, 
Major  Drake,  proprietor.  This  was  a  famous  old 
hostelry,  with  a  reputation  for  big  dinners,  fast 
horses,  and  high  play. 

On  the  spacious  piazzas  sat  the  usual  number 
of  loungers,  tipped  back  in  their  chairs,  with  their 
feet  on  the  rail,  smoking  and  talking.  They  were, 
however,  a  wholly  different  class  from  the  loung 
ers  in  front  of  Alvy  Dole's.  They  were  better 
dressed  and  were  prosperous  looking.  Some  of 
the  older  men  wore  black  coats  and  white  vests, 
while  an  occasional  silk  hat  and  spats  lent  dig 
nity  and  even  elegance  to  their  appearance.  A 
burly  red-faced  man  with  an  expansive  girth  and 
curly  gray  hair  and  who  might  have  posed  as  a 
model  for  the  immortal  Sam  Weller's  equally  im 
mortal  parent,  stood  at  the  main  entrance,  while  a 
tall,  broad-shouldered  man  with  the  blackest  of 
blue-black  side-whiskers  and  the  shiniest  of  bald 
heads,  impressively  assisted  into  a  waiting  car 
riage  two  ladies  and  a  gentleman.  This  accom 
plished  with  a  deal  of  ceremony,  the  bald-headed 
man  stepped  gracefully  to  the  front  seat,  took 
the  reins,  cracked  the  whip,  and  with  much  cur 
veting  and  champing  of  bits  the  horses  started. 
It  was  plainly  a  new  carriage  on  its  initial  trip. 
This  was  evident  from  the  fact  that  at  the  corner 


34  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

of  the  hotel  stood  several  stablemen  from  the 
hotel  stable,  who  watched  with  great  compla 
cency  the  shining  carriage,  the  polished  horses, 
and  the  gold-mounted  harness. 

Sam  paused  and  glanced  with  great  interest  at 
the  outfit  as  it  took  its  majestic  way  up  the  quiet 
village  street.  At  that  moment  from  a  passage 
way  just  beyond  the  hotel  a  large  bay  horse  at 
tached  to  a  heavy  Goddard  buggy  dashed  into 
the  street.  The  lines  were  held  by  a  very  hand 
some,  medium-sized  man  with  a  beard  touched 
with  gray,  and  sharp  piercing  eyes.  Round  came 
the  big  bay  under  the  whip,  and  before  the  bald- 
headed  man  could  pull  in  the  gray  pair  the  wheels 
of  the  two  carriages  locked.  There  was  a  splin 
tering  crash,  a  scream  from  the  ladies,  a  shout 
from  the  bystanders,  a  profane  explosion  from 
the  driver  of  the  big  bay,  and  the  double  carriage 
went  down  on  one  side. 

Sam  sprang  for  the  head  of  the  near  horse  as  the 
pair  reared,  while  a  husky  stableman  seized  the 
bay's  head.  For  a  moment  all  was  confusion. 
The  bald-headed  man  shook  his  fist  violently  at 
the  driver  of  the  bay,  the  latter  cursed  and  swore, 
and  brandished  his  whip,  while  Sam,  having 
quieted  the  pair  and  given  their  heads  to  one  of 
the  hotel -men,  assisted  the  ladies  and  the  old  gen 
tleman  from  the  carriage.  At  that  moment  the 
red-faced  proprietor  came  rushing  into  the  street 


A  ROW  35 

with  an  agility  wholly  unprecedented  in  a  man 
of  his  age  and  weight.  Before  the  sharp-eyed  man 
could  finish  the  oath  then  spewing  from  his 
mouth,  the  proprietor  seized  him  by  the  collar, 
jerked  him  from  the  buggy,  and  began  laying  his 
cane  with  sounding  welts  across  his  back  and 
legs. 

At  this,  three  or  four  stablemen  and  loungers 
from  the  passageway  rushed  with  loud  Hibernian 
whoops  into  the  fray,  while  the  men  from  the 
hotel  stable  met  them  with  fist,  club,  and  brick 
bat.  Up  drove  two  hacks  at  full  speed  and  from 
one,  labeled  "Hotel  Rumscott"  a  long-armed, 
black-bearded,  curly-headed  man  sporting  a 
policeman's  badge,  sprang  and  rushed  into  the 
fighting  crowd,  loudly  calling  on  them  to  "Digest 
in  the  name  of  the  law!"  From  the  other,  a 
square-built  man,  with  huge  feet  and  legs,  dropped, 
and  with  equal  display  of  a  policeman's  badge 
called  in  husky  accents  for  "This  assembly  to 
disperse  in  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

Sam,  not  having  any  reason  to  be  angry  at 
any  one,  sought  to  get  out  of  the  swirling  crowd 
when  he  saw  a  huge,  evil-looking  man  rush  from 
the  sidewalk,  pick  up  a  large  stone,  and  rush  be 
hind  the  burly  hotel-man,  drawing  his  arm  back 
for  a  fearful  blow. 

Instantly  seizing  the  man's  poised  arm  with 
one  hand,  and  his  collar  with  the  other  he 


36  A   COUNTRY   LAWYER 

gave  him  a  violent  twitch  and  pull  that  sent  him 
heels-over-head  halfway  across  the  street.  Then, 
grasping  the  proprietor  by  the  wrists,  he  tore 
him  away  from  the  kicking,  struggling,  and 
blaspheming  victim. 

The  fight  stopped  as  soon  as  it  began,  and 
in  the  face  of  the  awful  majesty  of  the  law 
the  combatants  drew  back,  cursing  one  another 
roundly. 

The  driver  of  the  bay  horse  still  danced  and 
swore. 

"Arrest  Major  Drake  there!  arrest  him,  damn 
him !  Put  him  under  arrest !  I  'm  a  Justice  of  the 
Peace,  and  I  order  his  arrest!  do  it  now!  do  it 
now,  or  I'll  have  your  badge  off!"  he  shrieked 
with  a  stream  of  oaths,  to  the  officer  with  huge 
legs. 

"Put  that  damned  little  scamp  under  arrest!" 
roared  the  Major,  red-faced  and  puffing.  "I  'm  a 
Justice  of  the  Peace  and  Quorum,  and  I  order  you 
to  arrest  him  for  malicious  mischief  and  defama 
tion  of  character.  Clap  the  irons  onto  him  or  I  '11 
have  you  removed  from  office  before  night!"  he 
stormed  at  the  black-bearded  constable. 

"Major  Drake,  you  are  under  arrest,"  said  the 
first  officer,  laying  his  hand  lightly  on  the 
Major's  shoulder. 

"The  hell  you  say!"  said  the  Major,  swelling 
like  a  turkey-cock. 


A   ROW  37 

"Mr.  Blunt,  you  are  my  prisoner,"  said  the 
official  with  the  black  beard,  advancing  and 
laying  a  huge  hand  on  the  arm  of  the  excited 
driver. 

"Don't  you  dare  put  the  irons  on  me,  you 
damned  rascal,  or  I  '11  sue  you  for  false  imprison 
ment,"  stormed  the  peppery  little  man. 

"Come,  Chris,  don't  be  a  cussed  fool,"  said 
the  officer  with  some  exasperation ;  "  if  I  thought 
ye  very  dangerous  I'd  tie  ye  with  a  piece  of 
tow-string  like  a  calf.  All  we  want  is  for  you 
to  come  round  when  we  hev  the  trial,  ain't 
that  so,  Mad?"  he  said,  addressing  the  other 
officer. 

"  That 's  all,  Andrew;  only  Major  and  Chris  is 
both  under  arrest  for  breaking  the  peace,  'n — •" 
said  Mad. 

'  'N  fitin',"  chimed  in  Andrew,  the  man  with  a 
black  beard. 

"N  assault  'n  battery,"  opined  Mad. 

"N  malicious  mischief,"  declared  Andrew. 

"N  perfane  language,"  asserted  Mad. 

"N  brawl  'n  tewmult,"  roared  Andrew. 

*  'N  resistance  to  lawfully  constitewted  authori 
ties,"  shouted  Mad. 

"N  unlawful   assemblage,"   vociferated  An 
drew. 

"N  -  -  'n  —  'n  —  raisin'  hell  ginerally." 

"Gord!"  said  the  Major;  "anything  more?" 


38  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Blankity!  blankity!!  blank!!!"  squealed 
Chris;  "you'll  see,  before  I  get  through  with 

you." 

Thereupon  the  Major,  retiring  to  his  hotel  for 
his  coat,  stamped  down  to  Squire  Branch's  office 
while  Chris,  having  anointed  himself  plentifully 
with  liniment,  hurried  down  to  his  brother  Joe's 
for  the  proper  legal  machinery  to  accomplish  the 
Major's  undoing. 

Sam,  who  had  listened  with  great  amusement 
to  the  conversation,  seeing  no  further  opportunity 
for  entertainment  there,  renewed  his  stroll.  As 
he  passed  by  a  side  street  he  noticed  the  fellow  he 
had  thrown  across  the  street  waiting  for  him. 

As  Sam  came  up,  the  man  stepped  in  front  of 
him. 

"Say,"  he  growled,  with  an  oath,  "you  are  the 
feller  who  pitched  me  into  the  dirt?" 

"Yes,  I  guess  you  are  the  man,  and  you  cer 
tainly  look  as  if  you  had  been  there,  all  right," 
said  Sam  with  a  laugh. 

"P'raps  ye  think  ye  can  do  it  again?"  leered 
the  man,  thrusting  his  jaw  forward  belliger 
ently. 

"Why,  yes,"  drawled  Sam,  lighting  a  cigar 
ette,  "  I  have  n't  the  least  doubt  of  it." 

"Well,  just  come  down  here  where  we  won't  be 
seen  and  I'll  give  you  a  chance  to  try,"  said  the 
fellow. 


A  ROW  39 

"Thanks,  no,  my  friend,"  replied  Sam  pleas 
antly;  "I've  had  plenty  of  excitement  to-day, 
and  I  think  I  can  manage  to  get  along  without 
any  more." 

"Ye '11  get  a  damned  sight  more  if  you'll  come 
down  here  for  about  five  minutes,"  rasped  the 
fellow. 

"Very  likely,"  said  Sam,  flicking  the  ashes 
from  the  tip  of  his  cigarette. 

"So  you  won't  come?"  said  the  man,  raising 
his  voice. 

"No,"  said  Sam. 

"P'raps  you'd  rather  have  it  out  here,"  he 
roared,  lurching  forward. 

"See  here,  Bill,"  said  a  voice  behind,  "you  get 
out  of  this  lively  or  I'll  run  ye  in,"  and  Mad, 
coming  out  of  the  lane  to  Blunt's  stable,  bore 
down  on  the  two. 

"I'll  see  you  ag'in,"  growled  Bill,  moving 
sulkily  away. 

"Not  if  I  see  you  coming,  my  friend,"  smiled 
Sam  as  he  turned  to  the  constable. 

"What  did  that  cuss  want?"  inquired  Mad. 

"He  appeared  to  think  I  had  been  a  little 
rough  with  him  when  he  tried  to  strike  the  Major 
from  behind,"  replied  Sam. 

"Rough  with  him!  thunder!  I  should  think 
so,"  said  Mad,  choking  with  laughter.  "Gosh! 
you  nearly  snapped  his  head  off  when  you  jerked 


40  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

him  away.  Gaw!  he  went  off  jerking  his  head 
and  neck  like  a  man  trying  to  swallow  a  dry 
doughnut,"  and  the  worthy  officer  slapped  his 
knee  and  roared.  "Say,"  he  continued,  "look 
out  for  him,  he  is  a  mean  cuss,  and  will  lay  for 
you  if  he  gets  a  chance.  He  has  done  time  before 
this.  But,  Lord  amity,  how  he  did  go  one-sided, 
like  when  you  swing  a  cat  by  the  tail.  I  bet  he 
never  got  such  a  sling  as  that  before.  Gaw ! "  and 
he  roared  again.  -  "By  the  way,"  he  shouted, 
"I  forgot,  we  shall  need  you  at  the  trial  to-mor 
row." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  the  case,  man," 
urged  Sam. 

'Yes,  you  do.  You  are  the  man  that  pulled 
the  old  Major  off  when  he  was  whaling  Chris. 
You  see  I  drive  hacks  for  Chris,  but,  never  mind, 
he  has  needed  a  good  lickin'  for  some  time,  and 
he  got  it  too.  Still,  law  is  law,  an'  we've  got  to 
perceed  accordin'  to  the  forms.  -  -  Where  ye 
stoppin'?" 

"At  the  Columbia  House." 

"At  Alvy's?    Gaw!  whatcher  stoppin'  there 
for?  Why  dontcher  put  up  at  the  Major's?" 

"Well,  the  Columbia  seems  well  enough,  and 
cheap  enough." 

*  Yes,  but  thunder!  there's  something  goin'  on 
at  Major's  all  the  time." 

"  If  this  is  a  specimen,  I  'm  afraid  I  'm  not  up 


A  ROW  41 

to  so  much  excitement,  and  there  seems  to  be 
something  going  on  at  Alvy's." 

"Gaw!  yes;  Alvy's  is  lively  enough  to  keep 
you  awake.  So  if  we  want  ye,  we  can  get  ye 
there,  can  we?" 

'Yes,  I  guess  so,  if  you  want  me  within  a  few 
days." 

"All  right;  good-day,  sir;  only  keep  your 
weather  eye  open  for  Bill." 


CHAPTER   IV 

SOCIETY    IN    ELMTOWN 

BACK  on  the  hotel  piazza  the  thrashing  given  by 
the  Major  to  Blunt  was  the  theme  of  general 
conversation. 

"By  Gad!  sir,"  said  William  Billowell,  a  vast 
blond  man,  with  his  hair  curled  under  behind, 
and  a  chin  beard,  Chairman  of  the  Board  of 
Selectmen,  and  a  merchant  of  local  weight,  "if 
Chris  has  Major  arrested,  I  want  the  privilege  of 
paying  his  fine,  and  going  bonds  for  him  if  bonds 
are  needed." 

"Hold  on  there  a  minute,  Bill,"  said  a  spare 
old  gentleman  with  a  wig  and  old-fashioned, 
highly  polished  calfskin  boots,  "I  claim  that 
privilege  as  a  vested  right.  I  have  known  the 
Major  longer  than  you,  and  perhaps  I  feel  a  little 
more  keenly  a  long  nursed  grudge  against 
Blunt." 

"Gentlemen  all,"  said  a  portly  man  with  a 
large  nose,  prominent  eyes  and  a  stock,  "I  depre 
cate  the  employment  of  force,  the  use  of  violence, 
and  especially  do  I  oppose,  and  consistently  op 
pose,  resort  to  weapons,  even  to  so  homely  imple 
ments,  gentlemen,  as  the  oaken  staff,  the  ashen 


SOCIETY  IN  ELMTOWN  43 

stick,  or  the  gold-headed  cane.  The  immortal 
Shakespeare  has  said,  gentlemen,  and  I  need  not 
remind  you  of  it  - 

Beware  thy  entrance  to  a  quarrel ; 

But,  once  in,  so  conduct  thyself 

That  thy  enemy  mayst  beware  of  thee  ; 

and  someone  has  said  —  damfino  who  — 

Lay  on  McDuff, 
And  damned  be  him  who  first  cries,  'Hold!  enough!' 

Now,  gentlemen,"  rising  and  placing  his  thumbs 
in  the  armholes  of  his  yellow  vest,  "our  friend 
Bacon  has  also  remarked  - 

A  wise  man  will  make  more  opportunities  than  he  finds. 

I  opine,  gentlemen  all,  that  had  the  latter  lived  in 
the  same  town  with  that  cantankerous,  jealous- 
minded,  quarrel-breeding  rascal  of  a  Blunt,  he 
would  have  written  — 

A  wise  man  finds  more  opportunities  than  he  can  afford  to  take. 

But,  gentlemen,  our  honored  friend,  the  Major, 
has  certainly  improved  this  opportunity,  and  has 
done  it  damned  well,  and  I  move  you,  gentle 
men,  that  the  house  adjourn  with  me  to  the  — 
ah  —  sample-room  and  there  pour  out  a  libation 
to  the  —  ah  —  god  of  war,  and  —  ah  —  pledge 
a  bumper  to  the  stout  cane  and  the  —  ah  — 
strong  right  arm  of  our  honored  boniface,  Major 
Drake." 

With  one  accord  there  was  a  rasping  scrape  of 
chairs  and  squeak  of  leather  and  wicker,  and  the 


44  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

assemblage  decorously  followed  him  to  the  bar 
room  and  lined  up. 

"Gentlemen  all,  nominate  your  stimulant," 
said  the  portly  gentleman,  with  much  ceremony. 

"Rum,"  was  the  unanimous  choice  of  the 
coterie  of  worthies. 

"Ah,  gentlemen,  well-chosen,  my  own  prefer 
ence,  in  fact.  Ben,"  he  added  to  the  bartender, 
"bring  out  a  bottle  of  that  spirituous  irritant 
known  as  New  England  Rum,  a  dash  of  lemon, 
and  a  trifle  of  saccharine  matter." 

When  the  glasses  were  filled,  the  portly  man 
bowed  low,  with  his  hand  on  his  heart,  and  raising 
his  glass,  said,  "Gentlemen,  our  friend  of  the 
strong  arm,  the  stout  heart,  and  the  oaken  staff, 
the  Major." 

'The  Major,"  echoed  the  assemblage,  and  the 
liquor  disappeared  as  quickly  as  if  it  were  thrown 
out  of  a  window,  and  deep  breaths  of  satisfaction 
were  drawn  by  all  as  they  filed  back  to  the  steps 
and  resumed  their  chairs. 

"By  the  way,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Chairman 
of  the  Board  of  Selectmen,  "during  the  skirmish 
there  was  a  young  fellow  of  more  than  average 
size,  who  held  the  pair  by  the  head  and  after 
wards  took  a  hand  in  the  row.  That  is,  he  gave 
Bill  Evans  an  almighty  sling  across  the  road  and 
then  pulled  the  Major  away  from  Chris.  Does 
any  one  know  him?" 


SOCIETY  IN  ELMTOWN  45 

"No,  but  I  saw  him  hist  Bill,  and  he  did  it  just 
in  time,  for  Bill  was  after  the  Major  with  a  rock 
as  big  as  a  quart  dipper.  But  I  wish  he  had  n't 
pulled  the  Major  off,"  said  the  man  with  the  wig. 

"Saw  it  too,"  said  Mr.  Timson,  a  short,  thick 
set,  rather  bandy-legged  man  with  a  large  smooth 
face,  of  ox-like  placidity  and  lack  of  expression. 
Mr.  Timson  was  a  tailor,  and  his  language  was 
like  the  snip  of  his  shears,  brief  and  to  the  point. 
"Bill  with  rock,  back  of  Major,  twitch,  yank, 
Bill  on  his  back,  rod  away,  Major  all  right,  Chris, 
damn  rascal,  not  half  enough." 

"As  our  friend  Timson  sententiously  remarks, 
the  young  fellow,  whoever  he  may  be,  was  on 
deck,  to  borrow  a  current  baseball  expression, 
and  undoubtedly  —  ah  —  saved  our  friend  the 
publican,  haziness  of  ideas,  or  —  ah  —  some  dis 
figurement,  if  nothing  worse.  Our  friend  is  a 
hard-headed  gentleman,  but  —  ah  —  in  the  event 
of  a  violent  collision  between  his  head  and  a  gran 
ite  boulder  or  brickbat,  it  is  to  be  doubted  if  the 
result  would  —  ah  —  have  been  in  any  way  de 
trimental  to  the  —  ah  —  boulder,  or  beneficial 
to  our  worthy  friend's  head.  In  my  opinion,  gen 
tlemen,  the  unknown  young  man  is  worthy  of 
being  honored  with  a  libation.  Will  you  gentle 
men  join  me?" 

Again  in  perfect  time  the  boot  heels  thumped 
on  the  floor  as  their  owners  tilted  their  chairs  for- 


46  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

ward,  the  chairs  scraped  and  squeaked,  and  the 
gentlemen  arose  with  alacrity  and  turned  towards 
the  refreshment  room. 

At  that  moment  the  Major  arrived,  puffing. 

"I  was  just  saying,  Major,"  said  the  portly 
man,  "that  in  honor  of  the  valiant  behavior  of  a 
certain  unknown  young  man,  who  did  yeoman's 
service  in  saving  your  head  in  the  recent  —  ah  — 
disturbance,  we  would  observe  the  ordinary  and 
proper  ceremony,  and  —  ah  —  at  my  expense." 

"Hm —  hah,"  said  the  Major,  —  "what 
about  it?  Who  was  he?  What  did  he  do  for  me? 
Where  is  he?" 

"Well,  Major,  while  you  were  administering 
a  very  needed  castigation  and  chastisement  to 
your  most  unworthy  foeman,  a  well-known  rene 
gade  and  rowdy,  Bill  Evans,  whom  you,  I  be 
lieve,  have  some  reason  to  know,  having  ordered 
him  out  of  your  —  ah  —  refectory  only  a  short 
time  prior  to  the  —  ah  —  pugilistic  engagement, 
tried  to  assault  you  from  behind  with  a  large 
rock,  when  a  youth  —  ah  — 

'  To  fortune  and  to  fame  unknown,'  — 

that  is  to  say,  as  far  as  our  feeble  knowledge  of 
the  gentleman  goes,  seized  the  miscreant  by  the 
scruff  of  his  neck  and  incontinently  pitched  him 
into  the  gutter." 

"Hm  —  hah,  he  did,  did  he?"  said  the  Major. 
"Senator,"  addressing  the  portly  man,  "this, 


SOCIETY   IN  ELMTOWN  47 

asking  your  pardon,  is  my  treat, — h'm  —  hah, 
my  treat." 

"Major/'  said  the  Senator  with  a  profound 
bow,  "I  decline,  sir,  as  a  gentleman  should  de 
cline,  to  usurp  —  ah  —  sir,  your  prerogative." 

"Right,  sir,"  puffed  the  Major;  "is  it  rum,  gen 
tlemen,  as  usual?" 

"Rum,  Major,"  chimed  in  the  chorus. 

"Senator,"  said  the  Major,  as  they  poised 
their  glasses. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  Senator,  "our  former 
toast  to  the  Major's  good  right  arm  leads  us  to 
similar  thoughts  in  relation  to  that  of  the  un 
known  gentleman,  and  our  memory  turns  to  the 
immortal  words  of  Campbell,  paraphrased  —  ah 
—  amended  a  trifle,  but  still  his  pregnant  words : 

'  Yet  for  Sarmatia's  tears  of  blood  atone 
And  make  your  arm,  puissant  as  his  own.'" 

A  vast  sigh  of  satisfaction  was  heaved  as  the 
empty  glasses  clashed  on  the  bar. 

Sam  in  the  mean  time  had  continued  his  walk 
through  the  streets  of  the  pretty  town.  He  passed 
the  spacious  Academy  grounds  and  building,  the 
broad  and  level  ball-grounds,  now  grown  to 
weeds,  except  one  diamond  where  a  scrub  game 
was  being  played  by  small  boys;  round  by  the 
river  winding  through  green  woods  and  close-cut 
brown  fields,  by  the  upper  and  lower  dams  and 
the  huge  mills  throbbing  in  the  summer  air;  by  the 


48  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

broad  street  of  tide-water  fringed  by  green 
rushes,  with  the  partly  decayed  wharfs  where  coal 
schooners  were  tied  up. 

Already  a  hint  of  autumn  was  in  the  air.  In 
spite  of  the  dry  heat,  an  indefinable  something 
spoke  of  falling  leaves,  of  a  dying  summer.  Al 
ready  the  bobolinks  had  donned  their  brown  and 
dust-colored  traveling-suits,  and  were  flying 
over  the  dry  fields  in  vaulting  flight,  uttering 
their  voyaging  note,  a  sharp  "spink"  with  each 
rhythmic  bound  of  their  plump  bodies.  The  rob 
ins,  faded  and  rusty,  their  new  feathers  showing 
smoothly  mottled  through  their  old  coats,  their 
wings  and  tails  uneven  and  ragged  from  dis 
carded  feathers,  were  flying  high  in  small  flocks, 
perching,  chasing,  and  calling  to  one  another  in 
the  tops  of  the  tallest  trees.  The  younger  birds  in 
full  feather,  but  with  breast  still  bearing  the 
speckled  feathers  of  first  year's  growth,  were 
scurrying  in  mad  flight  through  the  trees  and 
shrieking  joyously.  Flocks  of  cherry  birds  flew 
here  and  there,  now  alighting  in  the  high  trees, 
now  flying  high  in  air,  with  sudden  changes  of  di 
rection  and  with  their  curious  screaming  twitter. 

Near  the  banks  of  the  fresh  river,  above  the 
bridges,  and  in  the  shallows,  the  lily  pads  were 
becoming  ragged  on  their  outer  edges  as  if 
gnawed  by  fish  or  turtles,  while  here  and  there  on 
the  banks  the  fire  of  the  beautiful  cardinal  flower 


SOCIETY   IN  ELMTOWN  49 

was  seen  bending  gracefully,  while,  as  if  challeng 
ing  comparison,  a  scarlet  tanager,  perching  on 
the  limb  of  a  huge  pine,  glowed  like  an  ember 
amidst  the  green.  Far  over  the  immense  trees 
shadowing  the  bend  of  the  lower  river,  as  it  made 
towards  the  bay,  soared  a  magnificent  golden 
eagle  in  grand  circles. 

Sam  noted  these  things  with  the  avidious  eyes 
of  a  naturalist  as  he  sat  at  the  edge  of  the  wharf 
and  let  his  feet  hang  down  towards  the  water. 
He  noted  the  jerky  flight  of  a  kingfisher  in  mid 
stream  and  listened  with  pleasure  to  its  shrill  rat 
tle.  He  watched  it  alight  on  a  dead  branch  of  a 
tree  overhanging  the  pool,  and  raise  its  crest  and 
flirt  its  tail  loosely.  Then  he  saw  it  lean  forward 
with  a  sort  of  "make-ready"  attitude,  and 
"plop!"  it  had  dropped  like  a  stone  into  the 
placid  water,  had  seized  a  small  fish,  emerged  in 
a  tiny  swirl  of  spray,  and  was  on  its  perch  again, 
rapping  the  struggling  fish  on  the  branch  with  its 
long  strong  beak,  furnished  with  saw  teeth. 

Far  above  in  the  blue  the  swifts  were  flying  in 
lightning  curves,  swooping,  descending,  rising, 
pausing  with  rapidly  beating  wings,  then  darting 
so  high  that  they  seemed  mere  midges.  The  barn 
and  eaves  swallows  had  left  the  inland  for  the 
marshes  by  the  sea,  where  millions  were  flying 
and  gorging  themselves  on  the  teeming  insect 
life  of  late  August. 


50  A   COUNTRY   LAWYER 

Suddenly  the  hoarse  roar  of  the  mill  whistle 
broke  upon  the  rhythmic  throb  of  the  machines 
and  the  trickle  of  water  from  the  dam.  Then 
the  hum  of  machinery  ceased,  and  from  the  big 
doors  a  black  stream  of  operatives  poured  forth, 
like  swarming  bees.  From  the  other  end  of  the 
village  were  heard  other  whistles  from  the  ma 
chine  works  and  the  shoe  factory,  and  then  the 
sound  of  the  town  clock  striking  six. 

Supper-time,  and  Sam  was  hungry.  Yet  he 
was  interested  in  the  stream  of  operatives  com 
ing  from  the  mill,  and  hastily  springing  to  his 
feet  he  hurried  to  the  corner  of  the  main  street  to 
intercept  them  as  they  came  across  the  two 
bridges.  Standing  by  the  corner,  partly  screened 
by  telegraph  poles,  he  watched  them.  An  inter 
esting  crowd  of  people  of  many  types.  Old  men 
-  thin,  bent,  grizzled,  with  straw  hats  or  thin 
cloth  caps,  black  or  dark-striped  cotton  shirts 
open  at  the  neck  and  showing  the  skinny,  corded 
throats  -  -  hurried  along  with  the  short  jerky 
gait  that  spoke  eloquently  of  many  hours  on 
their  feet  on  hard  wood  floors. 

Thin  women  with  bent  shoulders,  and  pitifully 
out  of  date  little  straw  hats  or  bonnets,  with 
skinny  arms  and  claw-like  hands  clasping  faded 
waists  together  at  their  necks,  hurried  to  their 
suppers.  Young  fellows  with  muscular  arms 
showing  to  the  elbows,  hatless,  coatless,  bandying 


SOCIETY  IN  ELMTOWN  51 

jokes  with  young  girls,  still  erect  and  comely. 
Dark-skinned  French  chattering  volubly  in  their 
own  language,  dingy,  stolid-faced  Poles  and 
Armenians  with  coarse  woolly  beards,  native 
Yankees  with  shrewd,  keen  faces. 

As  they  passed  the  second  bridge  and  the 
corner,  the  advance  guard  of  the  shoe  workers, 
from  a  mile  away,  came  trotting  through  the 
square  in  ancient  wagons.  A  few  minutes  later 
the  stream  of  pedestrians  arrived,  hurrying,  jost 
ling,  laughing,  and  chatting  in  French,  German, 
Yiddish,  English,  and  Greek. 

In  ten  minutes  they  had  passed  and  the  street 
was  again  quiet  in  comparison.  Clerks  with  their 
coats  over  their  arms  were  briskly  going  to  their 
suppers,  and  young  girls  from  the  dry  goods 
store,  patting  their  puffed  hair  and  settling  their 
belts,  were  tripping  homeward. 

Sam,  too,  was  hungry  from  his  walk,  and  started 
towards  the  hotel,  where  the  loungers  were  stiffly 
up-ending  themselves  and  scattering.  As  he 
entered  the  hallway,  he  could  see  some  of  the 
boarders  standing  in  line  before  the  wash-bowls. 
The  fortunate  holders  of  the  first  place  turned 
the  faucets,  plunged  their  faces  into  the  bowls 
with  mighty  blowing  and  splashing,  passed  their 
dripping  hands  through  their  hair,  dried  face  and 
hands  on  the  dingy  rollers,  ran  the  comb  and 
brush  over  their  hair,  parting  it  very  much  to 


52  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

one  side,  and  smoothing  it  flat  to  their  heads, 
turned  down  their  sleeves,  and  were  ready  for 
supper. 

The  Kickapoo  Indians  did  not  wash  at  all,  but 
entered  the  dining-room  in  a  body,  headed  by  the 
big  buck  in  full  plains  costume.  When  Sam  came 
down  from  his  room,  where  he  had  washed  his 
face  and  hands  and  brushed  his  clothes,  he  found 
the  dining-room  well  filled.  By  previous  arrange 
ment  the  waiters  had  left  an  empty  seat  beside 
the  big  Chief,  and  as  Sam  entered  the  room  he 
found  every  one  looking  at  him  with  an  amused 
smile.  Sam  took  the  challenge  and  the  seat.  As 
he  pulled  back  his  chair,  the  huge  buck  arose,  and 
with  a  guttural  "How"  extended  a  huge  paw. 
Sam  took  it,  by  a  quick  movement  thrusting  his 
hand  well  up  into  the  fork  of  the  other's,  thus 
preventing  the  Chief  from  getting  a  palm  hold  on 
his  fingers. 

A  twinkle  of  amusement  appeared  in  the  Chief's 
eyes  as  he  turned  on  his  vise,  which  turned  to  sur 
prise,  uneasiness,  and  anguish  as  Sam  did  the 
same.  For  a  moment  they  stood  with  hands 
clasped,  when  suddenly  with  a  yell  the  big  Chief 
bounded  back,  wrenching  his  hand  violently 
away  from  Sam's  grip. 

" Howly  Jasus,  me  fingers  is  bruk,"  he  groaned, 
as  he  bent  over  and  squeezed  his  injured  hand 
between  his  knees.  "Ye  must  be  the  divil  and 


SOCIETY  IN  ELMTOWN  53 

the  father  of  divils,"  he  added  with  hideous 
grimaces,  and  then,  suddenly  recollecting,  added 
something  supposed  to  be  in  the  Kickapoo  lan 
guage,  sounding  like  an  explosion  of  gutturals. 

The  entire  room  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter, 
under  cover  of  which  Sam  took  a  seat  at  a  side 
table,  near  a  half-dozen  mechanics,  who  smiled  a 
welcome. 

''  Young  man,"  said  one  of  them,  a  grizzled, 
muscular  veteran  of  forty -five,  "y°u  must  have  a 
grip  like  an  eagle's  claw.  That  old  cuss  has  nearly 
broke  the  hand  of  every  man  here.  I've  got  a 
pretty  good  grip,  and  so  have  the  rest  of  the  boys 
from  working  in  iron,  but  he  made  us  all  dance." 

"It  was  more  a  trick  than  anything  else,  al 
though  I  have  a  good  grip,"  laughed  Sam.  "You 
see  it  *s  all  in  getting  the  right  hold.  If  he  gets  it, 
he  can  hurt  you.  If  you  get  it,  and  know  how  to 
use  it,  you  can  hurt  him.  It  used  to  be  a  favorite 
trick  with  the  crew  men  in  college,  and  I  suppose 
I  learned  it  pretty  well  there.  Put  your  hand  out 
and  I'll  show  you  how  simple  it  is." 

"No,  thank  you,"  laughed  the  man;  "I  got 
enough  from  the  old  Chief." 

"Oh,  I  did  n't  mean  to  grip  you,  that's  low- 
down  business,  but  only  to  show  you  how  to  pre 
vent  it." 

"All  right,  then,"  said  the  man,  and  a  stained 
brown  hand  came  out. 


54  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Sam  then  taught  him  how  to  get  the  palm  hold 
where  the  hand  was  thickest  and  strongest,  a 
simple  enough  trick.  Then  his  order  was  brought 
in,  and  he  gave  it  for  a  short  time  his  undivided 
attention,  for  he  was  very  hungry.  The  supper 
was  wholesome  and  well-cooked,  and  Sam  enjoyed 
it  thoroughly. 

While  eating  he  listened  to  the  conversation  of 
the  men,  which  was  interesting,  although  of  mat 
ters  about  which  he  knew  little  or  nothing.  The 
working  of  a  certain  new  lathe  at  the  machine 
works  and  a  break  in  a  heel-burnishing  machine 
at  the  shoe  factory  formed  a  part  of  the  conver 
sation,  while  the  question  whether  or  not  the 
"Old  Man"  would  take  Elkins  on  as  foreman  of 
the  foundry  in  the  absence  of  Welden,  who  was 
in  Lowell,  called  forth  some  remarkably  free 
comments  about  Elkins's  ability  and  the  "Old 
Man's  "  stupidity.  Then  as  Bill  Donelly  had  been 
bitten  by  Mike  Hanley's  bulldog,  it  was  an  open 
question,  calling  for  much  argument  and  specu 
lation,  as  to  whether  or  not  a  dog  license  pro 
tected  the  owner  from  a  suit  for  damages  by  the 
injured  party,  and  prevented  the  killing  of  the 
animal  by  the  dog  officer  or  any  authority. 

Whenever  the  dispute  would  wax  warm,  an  ap 
peal  would  be  made  to  the  grizzled  man  who  was 
called  Ben,  and  whose  opinions  were  clear,  con 
cise,  and  much  to  the  point.  Indeed,  when  one 


SOCIETY  IN   ELMTOWN  55 

young  fellow,  who  had  started  a  joking  dispute  as 
to  the  relative  strength  of  Alvy's  whiskey  and 
Major  Drake's  rum,  appealed  to  him,  he  said 
with  emphasis,  "Whiskey  or  rum,  my  lad,  is  a 
mighty  good  thing  to  let  alone,  and  you  may 
be  sure  that  both  Alvy's  whiskey  and  Major's 
rum  are  bad  enough  without  wasting  any  time 
or  money  in  trying  to  find  out  which  is  the  worse. 
When  you  wake  up  in  the  morning  with  a  head  as 
big  as  a  wash-tub  or  with  the  heartburn,  it  makes 
little  difference  what  brand  of  liquor  you  use." 

"Say,  Ben,  you  ought  to  turn  temperance  lec 
turer,"  laughed  one. 

"Maybe  I  will,  some  day,  and  take  you  lads  as 
good  examples,"  answered  Ben  quietly. 

"Well,  Ben,"  said  the  young  fellows  as  they 
folded  up  their  napkins  and  stuffed  them  into  the 
japanned  napkin  rings,  "will  you  have  anything 
before  you  go  to  the  concert?" 

"No,  you  boys  know  I  won't.  Better  drop  it 
for  once,"  he  said. 

But  the  young  fellows  laughed  and  went  out 
laughing,  and  Ben  turned  to  Sam. 

"Those  are  good  young  chaps  and  they  ought 
not  to  be  here.  A  boarding-house  is  what  they 
need." 

"But  there  are  saloons  and  hotels.  They  could 
get  a  drink  when  they  wanted  it,  could  n't 
they?"  asked  Sam. 


56  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Yes,"  said  Ben,  "but  they  don't  drink  be 
cause  they  want  it,  but  because  it  is  fashionable 
and  the  thing.  If  it  was  n't  right  under  their 
noses,  they  would  n't  think  of  it.  Why !  if  it  was 
the  fashion  to  drink  castor  oil,  there  would  be 
plenty  of  young  fools  who  would  swear  it  was  just 
the  thing  they  wanted." 

"Well,"  said  Sam,  "I  guess  you  are  right.  But 
what  concert  were  they  talking  about?  I  am 
a  stranger  here,  and  may  have  to  stay  here  a 
day  or  two,  and  I  have  n't  anything  to  do  to 
night." 

"  Oh,  a  band  concert  on  the  square  every  Thurs 
day  night.  You  see  the  town  pays  for  it." 

"The  local  band,  I  suppose,"  said  Sam,  with  a 
slightly  bored  expression. 

!'Yes,  but  really  not  half  bad.  I've  heard  lots 
of  worse  ones  in  much  larger  places." 

"Are  you  going?"  inquired  Sam. 

"Yes,  I  always  go  when  I  am  in  town,  it  kills 
an  evening  and  makes  me  feel  better." 

"Well,  if  you  don't  mind,  I'd  like  to  go  with 
you,"  said  Sam. 

"Mighty  glad  to  have  you,"  said  Ben.  "I've 
got  to  go  to  my  room  to  dress  and  shave,  if  you 
will  wait.  I'll  be  down  in  about  a  half -hour,  or 
you  can  come  up." 

Sam  declined,  saying  he  would  smoke  on  the 
front  steps,  and  they  left  the  table  together. 


SOCIETY   IN   ELMTOWN  57 

On  the  piazza  Sam  got  a  chair,  tipped  back 
against  the  clapboards,  filled  and  lighted  his  pipe, 
and  looked  up  and  down  the  street.  It  was  nearly 
half-past  seven  o'clock,  and  already  the  store 
windows  were  brightly  lighted.  Across  the  street 
in  the  engine-house  the  shining  brasses  of  the  big 
engine  contrasted  with  the  brilliant  crimson  of 
the  wheels  and  pole.  Back  in  the  broad  stalls  the 
heavy  rangy  bays  stamped  and  munched,  while 
the  driver  and  one  or  two  loungers,  tipped  back 
in  chairs,  answered  the  cheerful  greetings  of  the 
clerks,  on  their  way  back  to  the  stores,  and  of  the 
workmen,  returning  from  their  suppers  for  their 
evening  in  the  street. 

One  by  one  the  hotel  loungers  returned  to  their 
seats,  and  Sam  noticed  that  they  invariably 
came  from  the  vicinity  of  the  barroom.  Their 
conversation,  however,  was  so  amusing  that  Sam 
was  surprised  when  the  half-hour  was  up  and 
Ben  returned,  shaved,  collared,  and  dressed  in  a 
neat  gray  suit  and  striped  shirt  with  soft  collar. 

Together  they  strolled,  pipe  in  mouth,  towards 
the  square,  where  they  found  people  arriving. 
Groups  of  young  girls,  chattering,  laughing,  and 
screaming  shrilly  at  some  light  jest,  passed  up 
and  down  the  streets.  Dingy  and  worn  women 
dragging  eager  children,  or  pushing  baby-car 
riages,  sought  for  comfortable  seats  on  the  grass- 
plots.  Old  men  with  canes  and  a  few  with 


58  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

crutches  sat  on  the  grass  or  on  curbstones  and 
talked  quietly.  Rows  of  young  men,  arm  in  arm, 
or  walking  side  by  side  and  smoking  cheap 
cigars,  passed  up  and  down  the  street,  exchang 
ing  greetings  with  one  another  or  badinage  with 
the  girls. 

In  the  centre  of  the  square  the  bandstand  was 
being  lighted  and  the  musicians  were  taking  their 
seats,  setting  up  their  music  racks  and  peeling 
the  green  cloth  covers  from  their  brass  and  wood 
instruments.  Carriages,  farm  wagons,  democrats, 
and  buckboards  were  arriving  filled  with  country 
people,  while  carriages  from  the  beaches  were 
backing  into  position  in  front  of  the  town  hall. 

Eight  o'clock  struck  from  the  old  church  belfry. 
The  band  leader  raised  his  arm,  there  was  the 
beat  of  a  measure,  a  vigorous  semicircular  wave 
of  the  baton,  and  the  band  broke  into  the  swing 
ing  measures  of  a  popular  quickstep.  Instantly 
the  walking  crowd  instinctively  fell  into  step, 
those  sitting  nodded  their  heads  in  time  to  the 
music,  and  the  entire  assemblage  listened  intently 
and  with  great  delight,  and  applauded  vigorously 
at  the  close  of  the  selection.  A  standard  overture 
followed,  then  a  popular  selection,  a  waltz,  a  solo 
for  trombone,  a  morceau  caracteristique,  a  solo 
for  piccolo,  a  military  march,  and  presto !  an  hour 
had  passed  and  the  concert  was  over.  The  old 
men  resumed  their  canes  and  crutches,  the  baby- 


SOCIETY  IN  ELMTOWN  59 

carriages  were  unlimbered  and  trundled  off,  the 
nine  o'clock  curfew  pealed  out,  and  the  crowd 
thinned  out. 

Sam  was  astonished  by  the  excellence  of  the 
music,  the  behavior  of  the  crowd,  the  perfect 
order,  the  enjoyment,  the  good  nature,  and  the 
critical  appreciation  of  some  especially  fine  bit  of 
harmony  or  melody  as  evidenced  by  the  applause, 
and  walked  slowly  back  to  his  hotel  with  his 
friend. 

The  loungers  were  still  there,  intent  upon  a  col 
loquy  between  Newt  and  AIvy,  the  former  en 
treating  the  latter  to  trust  him  for  just  one  more 
drink,  the  latter  protesting  that  his  account  as 
chalked  up  could  not  bear  any  more  padding. 

"Now,  look-a-here,  Alvy,  if  you  won't  trust 
me,  why  treat  for  once,  Alvy,  just  for  once.  Le'ss 
have  a  record  broken.  Let  it  be  given  to  the  pub 
lic  that  Alvy  Dole  opened  his  heart  and  treated. 
Come,  Alvy,  it's  wuth  it,  it's  wuth  it." 

" Now  hold  on,  Newt,"  said  Alvy ;  "ain't  I  been 
a  treatin'  on  ye  every  time  I  chalk  down  a  drink, 
'n  now  ye  say  I  hain't  never  opened  my  heart; 
hold  on  now,  Newt,  hoi'  on.  Now,  Newt,  I  'II  tell 
you  jes'  what  I'll  do.  If  you'll  make  up  a  poem 
right  now,  'ithout  hesitatin',  I'll  treat  the  crowd 
on  ye.  A  new  poem,  mind  ye,  not  an  old  one." 

Instant  attention  of  the  crowd. 

"I'll  go  ye,  Alvy,  a  treat  fer  the  crowd,  if  I 


60  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

make  up  a  poem  outer  my  own  head,  a  new  one. 
I'll  go  ye.  What'l  yer  hav',  a  funny  one  or  a 
sollum  one?" 

"Waal,"  drawled  Alvy,  "give  us  a  sollum  one." 
"All  right,  Alvy,  here  goes,"  said  Newt, 
mounting  a  chair  and  raising  his  arm  with  a  com 
manding  gesture,  while  the  crowd  of  loungers 
gazed  at  him  with  kindling  eyes  and  open 
mouths. 

Then  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  Newt 
intoned  - 

Where  are  the  boys  we  used  to  know. 
Always  so  gay  and  frisky, 
Down  in  the  graveyard  lying  low 
From  drinking  Al  Dole's  whiskey. 

For  a  moment  Alvy  remained  speechless  with 
indignation,  when  there  was  a  roar  of  laughter 
and  applause  as  the  crowd  of  loungers,  bearing 
Alvy  in  their  midst,  swept  towards  the  barroom, 
while  Sam,  very  much  amused,  ran  up  the  uneven 
stairs  to  bed. 


WHEI1E   ARE   THE   BOYS   WE  USED   TO   KNOW  ? 


CHAPTER  V 

COURT-ROOM   AMENITIES 

THE  next  morning  Sam  was  roused  from  a 
heavy  sleep  by  a  variety  of  unusual  noises. 
There  was  an  occasional  rattle  of  carriage  wheels, 
the  thud  and  stamping  of  horses'  feet  on  plank 
floors,  the  scraping  of  shovels,  frequent  oaths  and 
sharp  slaps,  emphasizing  hoarse  commands,  to 
"  Stan'  over  thar ! "  "  Get  off  my  foot,  you  blank- 
ety  blank  old  sprung-kneed,  wall-eyed,  spavined 
plug,"  -  whack !  stamp !  snort ! 

Then  the  measured  scrape  of  currycombs,  and 
jovial,  hilarious  songs  and  whistles.  Then  an  im 
patient  voice  called  out,  "Is  Alvy  up?"  and 
"What  time  do  ye  open  the  barroom?"  and 
whether  or  not  "Alvy  wants  a  man  to  die  of 
thirst  right  on  the  doorstep?" 

Then  a  drawling  voice,  with  a  marked  Irish 
accent,  said,  "Ta-a-a-ke  a  dhrink  outer  the  horse 
trough,  if  ye  can't  wait,"  followed  by  a  profane 
reply  consigning  the  speaker  to  the  uttermost 
regions  of  Hades. 

Sam  yawned  and  grinned  as  he  listened  and 
thought  of  the  lively  times  of  yesterday.  Then 
he  suddenly  remembered  the  trial,  and  won- 


62  A   COUNTRY   LAWYER 

dered  whether  or  not  he  would  be  required  as  a 
witness,  and  if  so  by  which  side. 

The  sun  was  up,  and  he  could  see  it  through 
the  curtains  gilding  the  metal  gutters  of  a  build 
ing  in  the  rear  of  the  hotel.  Then  came  a  raucous 
squealing  and  grunting  of  pigs  and  more  profane 
comments  and  the  rapping  of  a  flat  stick  on  flesh, 
then  the  cackling  of  fowls  and  the  whirring  and 
cooing  of  pigeons. 

It  was  evident  to  Sam  that  even  though  the 
early  morning  tipplers  were  being  neglected  that 
the  stock  on  the  place  was  numerous  and  well 
cared -for. 

Then  feet  began  to  clatter  up  and  down  the 
passages  and  stairways,  and  voices  were  heard 
demanding  various  articles,  --  water,  towels, 
soap,  and  blacking,  —  and  the  rattling  of  latches 
and  keys  in  rickety  locks. 

It  was  plain  that  the  guests  were  waking  up, 
the  only  notable  exception  being  prolonged,  reg 
ular,  and  terrific  snores  from  a  room  a  short  dis 
tance  down  the  corridor,  which  sonorously  pro 
claimed  the  fact  that  one  sleeper,  at  least,  defied 
the  noises  of  the  morning,  and  explained  to  Sam 
the  reason  why  he  dreamed  of  sawmills  the  en 
tire  night. 

Sam  lay  and  lazed  away  the  moments  until  a 
delicious  smell  of  steak,  fried  potatoes,  and  coffee 
stole  across  the  widely  divergent  but  not  un- 


COURT-ROOM  AMENITIES  63 

pleasant  smell  of  the  barns  and  stables,  when  he 
sprang  up,  and,  making  a  virtue  of  necessity, 
made  a  somewhat  limited  toilet  with  the  means 
at  hand  and  descended  to  the  yard. 

The  good-natured  Irishman,  who  was  rubbing 
down  a  shapely,  nervous  bay  mare,  grinned  at  his 
approach  and  gave  him  "Th'  top  av  th'  marnin'." 

Sam  answered  pleasantly  and  remarked  on  the 
good  points  of  the  mare. 

"She  is  thot,"  said  Pat,  "with  two  in  a  boogy, 
'n  divil  av  a  tooch  of  th'  whip,  an'  sorra  a  sook  o' 
th'  tooth,  thot  mare '11  rhoad  ye  foortain  moiles 
an  hour." 

"Fourteen  miles  an  hour!"  said  Sam  with  a 
smile;  "she  must  be  a  wonder." 

"She  is  thot,"  said  Pat,  expectorating  pro 
fusely. 

"A  little  bit  nervous,  is  n't  she?"  asked  Sam, 
as  the  mare  laid  her  ears  flat  to  her  thin  bony 
head,  and  rolled  her  eyes  dangerously. 

"She's  a  divil,  av  there  ivir  wuz  wan,"  said 
Pat. 

"Well,  a  nervous  highstrung  mare  is  gener 
ally  a  roadster,"  said  Sam,  boldly  running  his 
hand  over  her  forehead  and  smoothing  her  ears 
forward  in  spite  of  her  threats.  "But  come,  now, 
Pat,  won't  you  call  it  ten  miles  instead  of  four 
teen,  just  to  oblige  a  friend?" 

"Divil  of  a  mile  will  Oi  ta-a-a-ke  off,  not  a 


64  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

rhod,  not  a  domned  yard,  not  a  domned  inch. 
Jist  foortain  moiles,  nayther  moore  nor  liss.  D'ye 
moind  me,"  continued  Pat,  knocking  his  pipe  on 
his  hard  palm  to  shake  out  the  ashes  and  sticking 
it  in  the  band  of  his  old  slouch  hat,  "if  yez  want 
a  droive  to  Brookmouth,  or  to  Ocean  Beach,  or  to 
Yappin  with  th'  bhoys,  on  a  little  bit  av  a  toime, 
yez  want  to  ta-a-ke  this  mare,  but  if  yez  want  to 
take  a  yoong  la-a-a-dy  out  dhroiving,  an'  use  wan 
hand  for  the  loines,  'n  th'  ither  fer  th'  yoong  lady, 
ye  'd  betther  ta-a-a-ke  auld  Sarah,  th'  auld  bay 
mare  forninst  the  gray  in  th'  sta-a-ble  there," 
and  he  ran  his  currycomb  under  the  mare's  belly 
causing  her  to  squeal  and  lash  out  with  her  hind 
foot. 

Sam  entered  the  stable,  with  its  long  double 
row  of  stalls,  from  which  protruded  the  rumps  of 
horses,  —  grays,  bays,  blacks,  chestnuts,  and 
sorrels,  some  smooth  and  glossy  from  recent 
groomings,  some  rough  and  sweat-stained  from 
late  use;  some  round  and  smooth,  some  gaunt 
and  old,  with  stall-scarred  hips,  but  the  majority 
in  excellent  condition.  Behind  each  stall  was  the 
name  of  its  occupant,  —  Topsey,  Johnny  Roach, 
Sarah,  Polly,  Nigger,  Empress,  Silver  Tail,  King, 
-  while  on  a  wooden  peg  hung  the  particular 
harness  sacred  to  the  wearer.  In  the  middle  of 
the  floor  two  horses,  head-hitched  by  side  straps 
from  the  top  beams,  were  taking  their  morning 


COURT-ROOM  AMENITIES  65 

rub-downs  without  protest,  while  in  the  carriage 
house  a  man  in  leather  apron  and  rubber  boots 
was  whirling  the  jacked-up  wheels  of  a  piano  box 
buggy  and  playing  on  them  with  a  hose. 

As  Sam  concluded  his  inspection  and  left  the 
stable  he  saw  Alvy  come  to  the  door  of  the  office 
in  his  shirt-sleeves,  and  immediately  there  was  a 
simultaneous  if  somewhat  stiff-legged  rush  to  the 
barroom,  of  the  loungers  who  had  gradually  col 
lected  on  the  steps  of  the  harness  room  and  the 
seats  of  unused  wagons.  Evidently  Alvy  was  in 
demand.  Then  the  breakfast  gong  roared,  and 
Sam  went  in  at  the  front  door. 

He  found  Ben  and  the  boys  already  at  the 
table,  and  they  all  expressed  surprise  at  seeing 
him  so  early,  but  said  little  and  ate  rapidly  and 
somewhat  gluttonously,  all  except  Ben,  who  had 
a  rather  neat  way  of  eating  that  was  in  striking 
contrast  to  his  associates.  When  they  finished 
they  went  into  the  office,  followed  quickly  by 
Ben,  who  said  audibly  to  them,  "Not  a  drop  this 
morning,  boys;  you  can't  begin  work  for  me  in 
that  way." 

Sam  leisurely  ate  his  breakfast,  which  was 
wholesome  and  well  cooked,  and  watched  the 
boarders  and  guests  as  they  straggled  in.  There 
were  several  clerks,  very  shiny  as  to  their  cellu 
loid  collars  and  cuffs,  and  very  sleek  as  to  their 
carefully  parted  hair.  They  had  evidently  been 


66  A   COUNTRY   LAWYER 

out  late  the  night  before,  and  somewhat  loudly 
agreed  with  one  another  that  they  felt  "played 
out."  Indeed,  one  of  them,  a  youth  remarkable  for 
general  lankiness  and  rejoicing  in  an  exceedingly 
protuberant  Adam's  apple  that  covered  extra 
ordinary  distances  when  he  swallowed,  ventured 
the  opinion  that  it  would  be  as  much  as  his  job 
was  worth  if  the  old  man  should  find  out  that  he 
was  "corned"  the  night  before.  Then  there  were 
references  to  a  certain  young  lady  named  Stella 
and  another  named  Min,  and  mention  of  three  in 
a  buggy  and  other  matters  tending  to  show  that 
they  were  fellows  who  certainly  knew  life. 

They  were  very  free  with  the  table  girl,  and 
she  evidently  regarded  their  sallies  as  the  concen 
trated  essence  of  humor,  as  her  loud  cackling 
laughter  rang  a  sharp  treble  to  the  hoarse  bass  of 
their  deeper  tones.  They  ate  heartily,  although 
they  found  much  fault  with  the  food,  asking  the 
girl  why  Alvy  did  n't  patronize  the  new  harness 
maker  when  he  wanted  steak,  and  which  of  the 
tugs  that  particular  piece  belonged  to.  They 
drank  their  coffee  noisily  from  their  saucers, 
tucked  their  napkins  into  their  necks,  and  did 
other  things  that  rather  indicated  their  lack  of 
perception  of  the  niceties,  but  were  good-natured 
and  Sam  found  them  rather  amusing. 

He  was  also  amused  at  the  very  stately  old 
lady  who  came  in  after  the  young  men  had  left, 


COURT-ROOM  AMENITIES  67 

and  who  as  a  privileged  guest  had  her  own  table, 
where  she  and  the  ugliest,  pop-eyed,  dewlapped, 
asthmatic,  waddling,  husky-voiced  pug  dog  Sam 
had  ever  seen,  sat  in  state.  Her  wig  was  of  that 
indescribable  greenish  yellow  color  sometimes 
seen  on  the  back  of  cheap  and  shopworn  coats. 
Her  pitiful  old  face,  a  mass  of  wrinkles,  was  so 
carelessly  yet  thickly  powdered  and  rouged  as  to 
present  an  appearance  never  before  seen  in,  on, 
above,  or  under  the  earth.  Her  dress  was  a  mass 
of  flounces  and  tucks,  her  yellow  hands  and  arms 
loaded  with  rings,  bangles,  and  bracelets,  and  she 
managed  with  much  dignity  a  lorgnette,  through 
which  she  eyed  Sam  with  evident  curiosity  and 
condescension. 

As  she  entered,  she  had  dropped  her  handker 
chief,  a  filmy  bit  of  lace,  which  Sam,  perceiving, 
rescued  and  presented  to  her  with  a  courteous 
bow,  and  was  rewarded  by  the  old  lady  with  a 
stately  inclination,  and  a  smile  which  disclosed 
a  set  of  dazzling  but  glaringly  false  teeth,  and  by 
the  pug  with  a  series  of  gasping  barks  that  shook 
his  fat  body  like  a  mass  of  jelly. 

An  old  gentleman  with  a  tight  black  coat, open 
at  the  breast,  stock,  and  gold  spectacles,  entering 
at  this  moment,  bowed  with  his  hand  to  his  heart 
and  took  a  seat  at  the  other  end  of  the  room, 
near  a  side  window,  while  the  stately  lady  bridled 
and  simpered  with  so  affected  a  juvenility  that 


68  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Sam  was  obliged  to  hide  a  smile  in  the  folds  of 
his  worn  napkin. 

As  he  passed  out  of  the  dining-room  towards 
the  piazza  he  met  the  Kickapoo  Chief,  w'ho 
passed  him  on  his  way  from  the  barroom,  with  a 
curt  nod,  a  guttural  "How?"  and  a  fairly  audible 
smell  of  gin,  but  without  any  attempt  to  shake 
hands. 

Sam  heard  his  name  called  as  he  came  on  the 
piazza,  and  met  a  very  officious  gentleman  in  a 
black  frock  coat  and  a  tall  hat,  who  asked  him  if 
his  name  was  Samuel  Randolph.  On  being  in 
formed  that  he  answered  to  that  name,  the  offi 
cious  gentleman  informed  him  that  he  was  J. 
Wadlin,  a  deputy  of  the  sheriff  of  the  County  of 
Rockaway,  removed  from  his  hat  a  bundle  of 
papers,  selected  one,  opened  it,  adjusted  his 
spectacles,  and  read  rapidly  but  sonorously  - 

"  State  N  Hamshr.  Cty  Rockaw^ay,  you  quired 
appear  at  Justiscort  Cortroom  ten  clock  testify 
whacherknow  action  State  vsus.  Drake,  herof 
fail  not,  answer  dfault  pains  penalties  perjury." 

Upon  the  conclusion  of  this  remarkable  state 
ment,  the  officious  gentleman  replaced  the  paper 
in  the  bundle,  replaced  the  bundle  in  the  tall  hat, 
replaced  the  hat  upon  his  head,  drew  a  wallet  from 
his  breast  pocket,  unwound  a  long  leather  strap, 
opened  the  wallet,  and  counted  out  the  sum  of 
seventy-seven  cents  which  he  handed  Sam  with 


COURT-ROOM  AMENITIES  69 

the  explanatory  words,  "Your  fee,"  and  turned 
to  go;  when  Sam  detained  him,  and  asked:  — 

"But  what  is  this  all  about?  I  don't  quite  un 
derstand;  you  read  so  fast." 

"Why  the  Major  Drake  assault  case,  before 
Justice  Ball;  you're  a  witness,"  replied  the  offi 
cial. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Sam,  somewhat  doubt 
fully,  "but  where  is  it  to  be?  You  see  I'm  not 
very  well  acquainted  here." 

"Grand  Jury  Room  in  the  Court-House,  ten 
o'clock,  up  one  flight,  first  door  to  left,"  and  J. 
Wadkin,  being  a  man  of  action  and  a  busy  man, 
departed  rapidly. 

A  moment  later  Sam  saw  him  stop  another 
man  and  go  through  the  same  legal  formality 
with  him,  and  then  taking  him  by  the  buttonhole 
confer  with  him  very  earnestly  and  with  much 
gesticulation.  Finally  they  parted  with  some 
ceremony  and  much  hearty  laughter. 

Sam  noted  that  the  man  whom  he  had  sum 
moned  was  a  portly  man  with  a  large  nose,  pro 
minent  eyes,  and  a  stock;  that  he  held  himself 
very  erect,  walked  with  rather  a  stately  tread, 
acknowledged  salutations  with  impressive  court 
esy,  and  was  an  extremely  fine-looking  old  gen 
tleman. 

As  Sam  sauntered  down  the  street,  gazing  with 
interest  at  the  pedestrians  and  teams,  he  was  met 


70  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

by  Officer  Andrew  Brown,  who  pulled  up  his  pair 
of  veteran  hack  horses  and  told  him  he  was 
wanted  at  once  at  Squire  Branch's  office.  This 
was  as  a  command  to  Sam,  and  he  nodded  his 
thanks  to  the  officer  and  hurried  to  his  appoint 
ment. 

As  he  ran  upstairs  and  entered  the  office,  he 
found  the  Squire  busily  at  work,  alternately 
leaning  back  in  his  chair,  pushing  his  spectacles 
to  his  bushy  hair,  shooting  a  volley  of  crisp,  curt 
questions  at  a  witness  under  examination,  and 
making  memoranda  on  a  pad  in  a  style  of  chiro- 
graphy  undecipherable  to  any  one  but  himself. 
He  looked  up  sharply  as  Sam  entered,  nodded, 
pointed  to  a  seat,  and  went  on  with  his  examina 
tion  of  the  witness.  In  rapid  succession  he  dis 
posed  of  several  witnesses  until  it  came  to  Sam's 
turn. 

"What  name,  young  man?"  the  Squire  asked, 
leaning  over  the  table  with  pen  poised. 

"Why,  Samuel  Randolph,"  said  Sam  hesitat 
ingly. 

"How  do  you  spell  the  *  Why '  in  your  name?  " 
demanded  the  Squire. 

Sam  flushed  a  bit.  "My  name  is  Samuel  Ran 
dolph,  as  I  supposed  you  knew." 

"In  lawsuits  we  know  nobody,  young  man," 
retorted  the  Squire,  with  a  sharp  glance  from 
under  his  bushy  eyebrows.  "How  old? " 


COURT-ROOM  AMENITIES  71 

"Twenty-three." 

"Residence?" 

"New  York,  or  perhaps  I  should  say  Elm- 
town." 

"Perhaps  not,  there  may  be  some  doubt  of 
that,"  said  the  Squire,  with  a  slight  suspicion  of  a 
smile  in  his  deep-set  eyes. 

"New  York,  then,"  said  Sam  curtly. 

''That  is  better,"  said  the  Squire.  "Now,  tell 
what  you  saw  about  the  assault  on  the  Major 
here." 

Sam  detailed  briefly  what  he  saw  of  the  caning 
and  the  part  he  took  in  it. 

The  Squire  listened  without  comment,  until 
Sam  finished,  when  he  asked:  - 

"How  far  was  Major's  team  from  the  alley 
wrhen  Chris  drove  out?" 

"About  one  hundred  feet." 

"How  far  from  the  alley  side  of  the  street?  " 

"About  three  times  the  width  of  the  carriage." 

"Which  team  was  being  driven  the  faster?" 

'The  one  coming  from  the  alley." 

"Did  that  team  have  time  and  room  to  pass?" 

"Yes." 

"Was  there  any  other  team  on  the  ground?" 

"No." 

"Any  other  circumstance  you  noticed?" 

"I  saw  Chris,  as  you  call  him,  strike  his  horse 
after  he  turned  into  the  street." 


72  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Could  he  have  seen  Major's  team?" 

"He  must  have  seen  it." 

'That  will  do,  sir,"  said  the  Squire.  "Now, 
Major,  this  is  what  will  happen:  the  Court  will 
find  you  guilty  of  assault  and  battery  and  fine 
you.  He  can't  help  it  under  the  evidence.  I  am 
satisfied  that  Chris  smashed  your  carriage  inten 
tionally,  and  you  can  make  him  pay  for  it.  But 
you  had  no  legal  justification  for  warming  his 
hide,  but  I  guess  there  is  not  any  reason  to  be 
worried  about  it." 

"Worried!"  said  the  Major  stoutly,  "I  would 
be  almighty  glad  to  get  another  crack  at  him  for 
a  fifty-dollar  fine.  I  'm  willing  to  go  in  and  plead 
guilty." 

"Well,  Major,  I  guess  there  won't  be  any  plea 
of  guilty.  If  the  Court  should  decide  to  send  you 
to  jail  for  a  month,  I  am  a  little  afraid  of  not  get 
ting  an  appeal,  after  that  kind  of  a  plea.  No,  we 
will  plead  '  Not  guilty '  and  let  them  put  in  their 
evidence,"  said  the  Squire  as  he  rose. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "we 
will  go  over  and  take  our  medicine.  Randolph, 
you  will  have  a  little  practical  illustration  of  the 
practice  of  law  in  a  country  town;  that  is,  of  one 
kind  of  practice.  Perhaps  after  our  friend  the  at 
torney  for  the  prosecution  finishes  with  you,  you 
may  decide  to  take  the  first  train  for  New  York." 

"I  am  afraid  not,  Mr.  Branch;  I  have  got  to 


COURT-ROOM  AMENITIES  73 

stay  here  long  enough  for  a  fellow  named  Bill  to 
thrash  me.  It  would  seem  rather  rough  on  Bill 
to  leave  without  giving  him  a  chance,"  said  Sam 
pleasantly. 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  of  that,  and  I  am  rather 
afraid  Bill  may  keep  his  word.  I  guess  I  will 
speak  a  word  to  Bill  about  keeping  on  his  side  of 
the  street,"  said  the  Squire. 

"Please  don't,  Mr.  Branch.  I  am  not  intend 
ing  to  have  any  row  with  Bill,  and  shall  try  to 
avoid  one,  but  I  really  can  take  care  of  myself, 
and  don't  need  a  guardian." 

"Well,  as  you  please,"  said  the  Squire;  "but 
Bill  is  a  rough  customer,  and  I  have  about  de 
cided  to  make  an  end  of  his  deviltry." 

"Well,"  said  Sam,  "perhaps  I  can  if  I  am 
obliged  to." 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Squire  with  a 
genial  smile,  "remember  to  answer  questions, 
and  don't  volunteer  any  information  or  opinion 
until  you  are  asked.  And  above  all,  don't  dodge 
or  equivocate  or  refuse  to  answer  questions.  I 
will  object  to  any  improper  question.  Another 
thing,  and  remember  this,  don't  think  that  you 
are  bound  to  have  an  answer  for  every  question. 
If  you  don't  know  the  answer,  don't  be  afraid  to 
say  so.  And  don't  be  afraid  if  your  answers  are 
not  alike.  No  two  persons  ever  saw  a  fight  in 
exactly  the  same  manner." 


74  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"To  sum  it  up,  just  tell  the  truth  as  the  thing 
appeared  to  you,  and  you  will  not  have  any 
trouble.  Now,  do  any  of  you  wish  to  be  sum 
moned?" 

"Summoned!  No,  sir,  I  guess  not,"  was  the 
prompt  answer. 

But  Sam  added  that  he  had  already  been  sum 
moned  by  the  other  side. 

"H'm,"  said  the  Squire;  "I  wish  I  had  known 
that;  I  should  not  have  felt  at  liberty  to  examine 
you.  Confound  it,  Joe  will  make  the  most  of  it. 
Well,  it  is  too  late  now,  we  had  better  be  going," 
and  he  picked  up  his  green  bag  and  led  the  way  to 
the  court-room,  to  which  a  large  number  of  peo 
ple  were  going. 


CHAPTER  VI 

STATE    VERSUS   A.    P.    DRAKE 

THE  court-room  was  a  large  long  room  in  the 
second  floor  of  the  town  house,  used  during 
the  sessions  of  the  Supreme  Court  as  the  Grand 
Jury  Room.  There  was  a  platform  with  a  flat 
desk  at  one  end  of  the  room.  This  was  surrounded 
by  a  railing,  within  which  was  a  long  table  and 
desk  for  the  counsel  and  several  benches  for  the 
parties  and  their  witnesses.  Outside  of  the  railing 
the  spectators  sat  on  long  settees  or  benches,  and 
spat  copiously  upon  the  floor. 

The  complainant,  his  witnesses,  and  counsel, 
an  extremely  handsome  man  of  about  fifty,  with 
pointed  beard,  snapping  black  eyes,  and  a  quick, 
nervous,  aggressive  manner,  were  already  within 
the  railed  inclosure. 

J.  Wadlin,  the  deputy  sheriff,  was  talking  earn 
estly  to  an  elderly  man  with  glasses,  whom  he 
held  by  the  buttonhole,  which  appeared  to  be  a 
habit  with  him.  The  benches  were  rapidly  filling 
up,  and  every  face  seemed  to  bear  a  sort  of  de 
lighted  expectancy,  as  if  something  very  inter 
esting  was  going  to  happen.  Every  man,  as  he 
entered  the  room,  shook  the  ashes  from  his  pipe, 


76  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

or  carefully  placed  his  cigar,  lighted  end  out 
wards,  on  the  window-sill,  much  charred  by  years 
of  similar  storage,  to  await  his  return,  removed 
his  hat,  smoothed  his  hair,  and  took  a  seat  as  near 
the  front  as  he  could,  and  prepared  to  get  as 
much  enjoyment  out  of  the  proceedings  as  pos 
sible. 

The  benches  rapidly  filled  and  the  entry  was 
crowded  when  the  Justice  came  in.  Justice  Ball 
was  a  large,  heavy,  elderly  man  with  a  shaved 
upper  lip,  an  exceedingly  bald  shiny  head,  a 
fringe  of  gray  whiskers  like  a  pepper-and-salt 
halo,  a  short  broad  back,  and  somewhat  bowed 
legs.  He  took  a  seat  at  the  desk,  removed  his 
black  slouch  hat,  reached  into  his  pocket,  pulled 
out  a  red  bandanna  handkerchief,  wiped  his  head, 
polished  his  glasses,  nodded  to  the  counsel,  and 
said, 

"Court  is  open;  proceed,  gentlemen." 

Instantly  the  counsel  for  the  prosecution 
bounced  to  his  feet  as  if  propelled  by  a  powerful 
spring  and  spoke  rapidly :  - 

"F  Honor  please,  I've  a  complaint  against 
Aaron  P.  Drake,  charging  him  with  aggravated 
assault  on  Christopher  Blunt,"  and  he  tendered 
the  Court  a  folded  paper. 

Whereupon  the  Court,  turning  to  the  Squire, 
asked  him  if  he  wanted  to  look  at  it. 

/'I  do,  your  Honor,"  said  the  Squire,  rising. 


STATE    VERSUS  A.   P.   DRAKE         77 

Then  after  a  moment's  examination,  he  resumed, 
''Just  as  I  thought,  your  Honor;  I  move  to  quash 
the  complaint." 

"Quash  the  complaint!  I  guess  that  complaint 
is  all  right,"  snapped  Mr.  Blunt.  "State  your 
grounds,  Mr.  Branch,  state  your  grounds;  I  de 
mand,  your  Honor,  that  my  brother  state  the 
grounds  of  his  motion,"  fumed  Mr.  Blunt  in 
some  excitement. 

"I  will  so  state  them,  your  Honor,"  said  the 
Squire  slowly  and  impressively. 

"Well,  go  ahead  and  state  them.  We  want  to 
know.  We  are  entitled  to  know.  And  we  are 
going  to  know,"  said  Mr.  Blunt,  so  rapidly  that 
his  words  were  scarcely  distinguishable. 

"Well,"  said  the  Squire  slowly,  and  with  the 
utmost  deliberation,  "I  will  state  them,  your 
Honor,  if  my  brother  here  will  keep  quiet  long 
enough." 

"Let  him  state  his  grounds,  Mr.  Blunt,"  said 
the  Court,  taking  a  pen  and  preparing  to  take 
notes  of  the  motion. 

"On  page  409  of  the  General  Statutes  of  our 
State,  Section  I,  you  will  find  these  words: 
'Writs,  declarations,  processes,  indictments,  an 
swers,  pleadings,  and  entries  of  records  in  the 
Courts  shall  be  in  the  English  language,  and  in  no 
other.' 

"Now,  your  Honor,  in  spite  of  this  most  ele- 


78  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

mentary  maxim,  my  Brother  Blunt  comes  into 
court  of  this  State  and  produces  a  complaint  and 
a  warrant  drawn  in  no  language  known  to  civil 
ized  man  on  the  face  of  the  globe.  I  defy  any 
man  living  to  decipher  it,"  and  with  a  sniff  of  dis 
gust  that  belied  the  gleam  of  humor  in  his  eyes  he 
tossed  the  paper  on  the  Justice's  desk.  "And  so 
I  move,  your  Honor  - 

But  he  got  no  further,  for  Mr.  Blunt,  who  had 
jumped  up  and  sat  down  several  times,  like  a 
man  on  a  red-hot  seat,  while  the  Squire  was 
speaking,  now  opened  fire  with  a  torrent  of  furi 
ous  words. 

When  he  was  through,  which  was  not  until  the 
Justice  checked  him,  the  latter  said :  - 

"I  admit  that  my  brother's  writing  is  a  bit  dif 
ficult  to  read,  but  I  guess  I  can  manage  to  get  the 
gist  of  it." 

''The  only  trouble  is,  Branch  can't  read," 
sputtered  Mr.  Blunt. 

''That's  true  as  far  as  your  writing  goes,"  said 
the  Squire. 

"Well,"  said  the  Justice,  "I  will  overrule  the 
motion,  and  read  the  complaint." 

\Vhereupon  he  ordered  the  Major  to  stand  up, 
and  read  the  complaint,  which  charged  the 
Major,  with  many  aforesaids  and  much  repeti 
tion,  with  having  committed  an  assault  of  an 
aggravated  nature  upon  one  Christopher  Blunt, 


STATE    VERSUS  A.   P.   DRAKE          79 

and  him  the  said  Blunt  he  the  said  Drake  with 
a  heavy  cane,  which  he  then  and  there  in  his 
right  hand  had  and  held,  did  beat,  bruise,  wound, 
and  ill-treat,  and  then  and  there  many  grievous 
blows  with  said  weapons,  to  wit,  said  cane  so  in 
said  right  hand  then  and  there  as  aforesaid  had 
and  held,  upon  the  back,  hips,  legs,  arms,  and 
sides  of  him  the  said  Blunt  did  then  and  there 
strike,  whereby  and  by  means  of  said  beating 
and  striking  said  back,  hips,  legs,  arms,  and  sides 
of  him  the  said  Blunt  became  bruised,  swollen, 
and  discolored  and  he  the  said  Blunt  became 
grievously  sick  and  diseased,  contrary  to  the  form 
of  the  statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided 
and  against  the  peace  and  dignity  of  the  State; 
and  after  reading  the  same,  the  Major,  nothing 
daunted  by  the  formidable  nature  of  the  docu 
ment,  stoutly  pleaded  not  guilty  and  sat  down. 

Lawyer  Blunt  then  took  the  floor  and  called 
his  first  witness,  the  complainant,  Mr.  Blunt, 
whom  we  will  call  Chris,  as  that  was  the  name  by 
which  he  was  best  known. 

Chris  took  the  oath  with  great  fervor,  holding 
his  hand  as  high  as  he  could  reach,  and,  looking 
as  if  he  could  not  under  any  circumstances  be 
guilty  of  the  mildest  exaggeration,  told  how  the 
day  before  he  had  driven  from  his  stable  an  old, 
quiet,  well-broken,  and  reliable  animal,  just  the 
one  for  old  ladies  and  gentlemen,  one  that  a  child 


80  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

could  lead  or  drive  with  a  tow-string,  a  horse  that 
he  kept  for  nervous  or  old  people  who  wished  for 
a  perfectly  reliable  and  absolutely  safe  animal. 
That  as  he  drove  into  the  street  he  met  a  pair  of 
horses  driven  at  a  very  reckless  rate  of  speed; 
that  he  tried  to  pull  his  horse  out  of  the  way,  but 
his  horse  was  going  so  slowly  and  the  other  horses 
so  fast  that  he  could  n't  clear  them,  and  the  two 
carriages  came  together  and  locked  wheels,  and 
both  carriages  were  smashed  and  the  horse 
lamed;  that  the  driver  of  the  pair,  Mr.  Rawle, 
abused  him,  and  tried  to  strike  him  with  his 
whip ;  and  that  while  he  was  trying  to  keep  out  of 
the  way  of  Rawle's  whip,  Major  Drake  rushed 
out  of  his  hotel,  seized  him  by  the  throat,  dragged 
him  out  of  his  carriage,  and  beat  him  savagely 
about  the  back  and  shoulders,  and  would  un 
doubtedly  have  killed  him  if  he  had  n't  been 
pulled  away  by  some  one. 

This  said,  Chris  paused  to  take  breath,  some 
what  winded  by  the  rapidity  and  fervor  of  his 
words. 

'You  may  tell  the  Court,  please,  the  nature  of 
your  wounds  and  bruises  and  describe  them 
fully,"  said  Mr.  Blunt. 

"I  object,  may  it  please  the  Court,"  inter 
posed  the  Squire,  rising. 

"Object!  what's  the  objection;  I  guess  a  man 
can  tell  where  he  is  hurt,"  sputtered  Mr.  Blunt. 


STATE    VERSUS  A.   P.   DRAKE          81 

"He  can  certainly  tell  where  he  suffers,  but 
cannot  describe  his  bruises." 

"Never  heard  anything  like  that  for  sheer 
nonsense  in  my  life  before,"  gasped  Mr.  Blunt. 

"What  is  your  objection,  Mr.  Branch?"  said 
the  Court. 

"In  the  nature  of  documentary  evidence,  your 
Honor.  This  assault  was  alleged  to  have  been 
committed  yesterday  and  the  complaint  sets  out 
that  serious  bruises  and  cuts  were  made  by  my 
client  upon  the  complainant's  body;  bruises  and 
cuts  which,  if  made  as  they  say,  must  be  there 
now,  and  are  the  best  evidence,  and  when  the 
best  evidence  is  obtainable,  and  more  than  that, 
is  present  in  court,  no  other  can  be  substituted." 

"Well,"  said  the  Justice,  "that  particular 
view  of  the  matter  never  struck  me  before,  but  it 
looks  as  if  the  objection  were  sound." 

"Does  the  Court  mean  to  say  that  it  excludes 
the  evidence?"  demanded  Mr.  Blunt,  with  heat. 

"Not  that  exactly,"  said  the  Justice  with  a 
smile,  "but  the  testimony  describing  the  bruises 
I  do  exclude.  If  the  witness  wishes  to  display 
them  to  me,  I  shall  permit  him  to  do  it." 

"Well,  I  guess  I  don't  propose  to  strip  and 
show  myself  for  anybody  or  any  case,"  said  the 
witness  doggedly. 

"The  witness  can  tell  where  he  suffers,"  said 
the  Justice. 


82  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Chris  then  gave  a  terrific  recital  of  his  suffer 
ings.  How  he  could  neither  eat,  sleep,  nor  lie 
down.  That  he  smarted,  ached,  and  throbbed  in 
every  part  of  his  body;  that  he  walked  with  a 
limp,  and  that  his  hands  and  arms  were  about 
useless.  In  short,  he  drew  such  a  hideous  picture 
of  suffering  that  his  adherents  glared  at  the 
Major,  who,  purple-faced  with  indignation, 
glared  back  again  in  a  most  ferocious  manner. 

As  he  finished,  his  counsel  said,  turning  to  the 
Squire,  'You  can  have  the  witness,  Brother 
Branch." 

The  Squire  rose,  glanced  at  the  Court,  and  said 
very  courteously,  "I  think,  may  it  please  the 
Court,  that  the  witness  ought  to  have  an  oppor 
tunity  to  sit  down.  Any  one  who  has  been  so 
badly  injured  as  he  has  been  can  properly  ask  in 
dulgence  of  the  Court." 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Branch,  certainly,  a  very 
thoughtful  suggestion,"  said  the  Justice.  "Offi 
cer,  give  the  witness  a  chair." 

Mad  the  policeman  brought  a  chair,  and  Chris 
gingerly  took  a  seat,  with  ill-suppressed  groans. 

Then  the  Squire  blandly  began  his  cross- 
examination,  and  within  a  minute  had  the  wit 
ness  on  his  feet,  wildly  gesticulating  with  his 
poor  useless  arms,  while  his  counsel  was  frantic 
ally  objecting  to  his  questions.  Indeed,  before 
he  finished  he  had  wound  Chris  up  in  such  a 


STATE    VERSUS  A.   P.   DRAKE          83 

tangle  of  contradictions  that  it  was  next  to  im 
possible  to  find  a  way  out  of  the  difficulty,  and 
when  told  that  he  could  step  down,  he  entirely 
forgot  to  limp  or  groan,  and  sat  down  so  hard  on 
the  settee  that  he  shook  the  windows. 

The  prosecuting  attorney's  next  witness  was 
Mr.  Wick,  a  very  worthy  and  respectable  old 
gentleman,  who  raised  his  hand  quickly  when 
told,  and  dropped  it  as  quickly  and  before  the 
Justice  could  administer  the  oath.  This  hap 
pened  several  times  before  he  was  properly 
sworn,  which  had  the  effect  of  working  him  into 
a  painful  state  of  nervousness. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Blunt  briskly,  "what  is 
your  name?" 

"William  Wick,  sir." 

"Wliere  do  you  live?" 

"Lived  in  this  town  sixty  year,  a'most." 

"How  old  are  you?" 

"Less  'n  a  hundred,  'n  more  'n  twenty-one." 

"Do  you  know  the  complainant?" 

"The  who?" 
'The  complainant,  Mr.  Blunt?" 

"Oh,  Chris,  there;  pshaw,  yes;  knowed  him 
forty  year  'n  over." 

"Know  the  respondent,  Major  Drake?" 

"Knowed  him  forty  years,  I  guess." 

"Did  you  see  the  trouble  between  Chris  and 
the  Major?" 


84  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Did." 

"Tell  the  Court  in  your  own  way  what  you 
saw  and  heard." 

"Well,  I  saw  the  fight,  'n  heard  folks  say  Chris 
did  n't  git  half  what  he  deserved." 

The  prosecuting  attorney  vainly  endeavored 
to  stop  him,  and  appealed  to  the  Court. 

"You  are  not  to  tell  what  you  heard  any  one 
say,   but  what  you  heard  during  the  fight,— 
blows,  language  used  at  the  time,  —  but  not  give 
any  one's  opinion  of  it  or  what  any  one  said  about 
it,"  explained  the  Justice. 

"Oh,  yes,  Bill,  I  un'erstan'  now  whatcher 
mean,"  said  Mr.  Wick,  with  a  smile  and  a  nod  of 
comprehension. 

"And  you  must  remember  also  not  to  call  the 
Court  Bill,"  said  the  Justice,  trying  hard  to  sup 
press  a  smile. 

"Hell,  yes,  B  —  your  Honor,  I'll  try  not  to 
forget  it  agin,"  said  William  apologetically. 

The  Justice  coughed  and  choked  behind  his 
hand  a  moment,  while  the  court  room  burst  into 
a  roar,  which  J.  Wadlin  checked  with  a  stern 
command  for  order. 

"Proceed,  Mr.  Witness,"  said  the  Court  when 
he  had  recovered  himself. 

'  *  Well  asl wasgoi  ngdo wnthes treety es terday after 
noonlsawateamof  horsesand  — 

"Hold  on!  hold  on!  Mr.  Witness,"  shouted  the 


STATE    VERSUS  A.   P.   DRAKE          85 

prosecuting  attorney;  "don't  go  so  fast.  I  can't 
understand  a  word.  Now  begin  again  and  go 
slow." 

"Allrightsir,"  said  Mr.  Wick,  shifting  his  cud 
and  refreshing  himself  by  sending  a  stream  of 
tobacco  juice  halfway  across  the  room  into  a 
spittoon  with  deadly  accuracy.  "As  —  I  — was  — 
going  —  downthestreetyesterdayaf  ternoonlsawa 
teamof  horses  — " 

"Hold  on!  Mr.  Wick,  hold  on!  How  do  you 
expect  us  to  understand  gibberish  like  that?" 
protested  the  prosecuting  attorney,  while  a  wave 
of  suppressed  mirth  rolled  over  the  audience. 
"Now,  try  once  more,  sir,  and  go  slowly,  very 
slowly,  from  the  first  word  to  the  last." 

"Allrightsir,"  said  Mr.  Wick,  with  great  cheer 
fulness;  "as  —  I  --  was  —  going  —  down  -  Is 
that  slow  enough  for  you,  Mr.  Blunt?"  queried 
the  witness. 

'Yes,  yes,  Mr.  Witness,  that  is  all  right,"  said 
the  attorney  impatiently. 

'Ye  ain't  deef,  be  ye?"  inquired  the  witness 
solicitously  of  the  attorney. 

There  was  a  smothered  snort  from  the  Court, 
and  a  ripple  from  the  audience,  which  brought 
a  command  of  "Silence!"  from  that  watchful 
officer,  the  "dippity  sheriff,"  J.  Wadlin. 

"Mr.  Wick,"  said  the  Justice,  when  he  could 
command  his  voice,  "you  must  not  ask  ques- 


86  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

tions,  but  answer  them.  Now,  go  on  and  tell, 
very,  slowly,  what  you  saw.  Now,  don't  for 
get." 

"Gord,  yes,  B  — your  Honor,  I'll  try  not  to 
forget,"  promised  William;  and  the  Justice 
retired  behind  his  hand,  while  his  shoulders 
heaved  and  shook. 

Then  the  witness  began  again :  — 

"As  -  -  I  -  -  was  -  -  going  -  -  down  -  -  the  — 
street  —  yesterday  -  -  I  —  saw  -  -  a  -  -  team  - 
of  horses  drivenbyoldmanRawlethefellerwiththe 
baldheadandthe  - 

"Hold  on,  Mr.  Wick!  stop!  sir!"  shouted  the 
prosecuting  attorney. 

-  sidewhiskersandthreepeopleinthecarriage 
andChristhenand  - 

"Will  you  stop,  sir?"  shouted  the  attorney. 

outofhisalleywaywithabigbayhorseanda 
sidebarbuggyand  - 

The  prosecuting  attorney  tore  his  hair,  the 
complainant  popped  in  and  out  of  his  chair  like  a 
jack-in-the-box,  the  Justice  leaned  back  in  his 
chair,  opened  his  mouth  and  roared,  and  the  audi 
ence,  taking  courage  from  his  surrender,  shouted 
with  laughter.  Even  J.  Wadlin  laughed  until  he 
had  to  hold  his  sides,  and  the  witness,  drowned 
out  of  his  lightning  narrative,  stopped  in  indig 
nant  amazement. 

Finally  the  laughter  stopped. 


STATE    VERSUS  A.   P.   DRAKE          87 

"That  will  do,  sir,  you  can  step  down,"  snapped 
the  prosecuting  attorney  to  the  witness. 

"No  questions,  Mr.  Wick,  thank  you,"  laughed 
the  Squire. 

Mr.  Wick,  still  very  indignant,  stepped  down 
and  stamped  out  of  the  court  room. 

The  next  witness  was  a  hostler  of  Chris's,  who 
stoutly  backed  his  employer  up  in  depicting  the 
gruesome  indignities  his  employer  had  suffered  at 
the  hands  of  the  Major. 

On  cross-examination  he  admitted  that  the 
Major  had,  a  week  before,  discharged  him  for 
drunkenness,  and  that  he  had  promised  to  get 
even  with  him. 

Several  other  witnesses  followed,  all  of  whom 
testified  to  the  row  and  the  beating.  These  were 
passed  over  by  the  Squire  with  but  little  attempt 
to  cross-examine,  beyond  establishing  the  fact 
that  the  Major's  carriage  was  badly  wrecked. 

"Samuel  Randolph,"  said  the  prosecuting  at 
torney,  "you  may  take  the  stand." 

Sam  arose,  went  forward,  took  the  oath,  and 
in  answer  to  the  questions  of  the  prosecuting  at 
torney,  told  his  story.  He  detailed  the  collision 
of  the  carriages,  the  rush  of  the  Major,  the  severe 
beating  that  Chris  had  sustained,  and  his  part  in 
dragging  the  Major  away,  but  said  nothing  about 
Bill  Evans's  attempt  to  brain  the  Major  with  a 
stone,  or  his  act  in  throwing  Bill  across  the  street. 


88  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Did  Chris  strike  Major?"  asked  the  prose 
cuting  attorney. 

"He  did  not,"  replied  Sam. 

"Did  he  resist?" 

"He  struggled  to  get  away,  and  swore  some." 

"  You  would  have  done  the  same  under  similar 
circumstances,  would  you  not?" 

"I  think  very  likely,  sir,"  replied  Sam. 

:' You  may  have  the  witness,  Mr.  Branch,"  said 
the  prosecuting  attorney  with  a  look  of  triumph. 

The  Squire  rose,  adjusted  his  spectacles 
slowly,  and  looked  at  Sam  quietly  but  sharply. 

"How  far  from  the  alley  leading  to  Chris's 
stable  did  the  carriages  come  together?" 

"About  two  rods." 

"How  fast  was  Major's  team  going?" 

"Very  slowly;  the  driver  was  holding  them  in 
and  making  them  prance." 

"Did  he  have  control  of  his  horses?" 

"He  appeared  to." 

"When  Mr.  Blunt  drove  out  of  the  alley,  how 
fast  was  he  going  compared  to  Major's  team?" 

"Very  much  faster." 

"Twice  as  fast?" 

"Yes,  I  should  think  so." 

"Did  Blunt  have  time  enough  and  room 
enough  to  clear  Major's  team?" 

"He  did.  He  had  plenty  of  time  and  plenty  of 
room.'' 


STATE    VERSUS  A.   P.   DRAKE          89 

"That  will  do,"  said  the  Squire. 

Instantly  the  prosecuting  attorney  was  on  his 
feet.  "Not  so  fast,  young  man,"  he  said  as  Sam 
was  leaving  the  stand;  "I  want  to  ask  you  a 
question  or  two.  —  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you 
think  the  complainant  deliberately  ran  into 
Major's  team?" 

"That  is  my  opinion,  from  what  I  saw,"  said 
Sam. 

"  Don't  you  know,  sir,  that  you  have  no  right  to 
give  an  opinion,"  shouted  the  attorney  in  a  rage. 

"Why,  you  just  asked  me  what  I  thought," 
said  Sam,  amazed,  "and  I  told  you." 

"I  move,  your  Honor,  that  the  answer  be 
stricken  out  and  that  the  witness  be  reprimanded 
for  expressing  an  opinion,"  said  the  attorney  with 
some  heat. 

"Inasmuch  as  the  answer  was  directly  respons 
ive  to  your  question,  I  don't  see  how  you  can 
find  any  fault.  If  you  don't  want  opinions,  you 
certainly  should  n't  ask  for  them,  or  complain 
when  they  hurt  you." 

"Then  your  Honor  declines  to  strike  out  the 
answer,  do  you?"  inquired  the  attorney. 

"Oh,  I  shall  try  and  disregard  the  answer,  but 
I  most  certainly  shall  not  reprimand  the  witness. 
—  Any  more  questions  of  the  witness?" 

:<  You  said,  sir,"  said  the  attorney,  picking  up  a 
pen  and  making  elaborate  preparations  for  re- 


90  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

ducing  Sam's  answer  to  cold  type,  "that  the  com 
plainant's  horse  was  going  much  faster  than  the 
respondent's  team." 

"I  did  say  so,"  said  Sam. 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  horses?  Have 
you  ever  ridden  or  driven  or  hired  or  used  them  ? 

Do  you  know  anything  at  all  about  them  or  don't 

o » 
you.' 

"I  have  ridden  and  driven  and  hired  and  used 
horses,  and  I  do  know  something  about  them," 
answered  Sam  with  a  smile. 

"And  paid  for  them,  too,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes." 

"I  am  talking  of  livery-stable  horses,"  snapped 
the  attorney. 

"And  so  am  I,"  said  Sam  placidly. 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  that  we  have  at  last  got  some 
thing  that  you  know  something  about.  We  have 
got  somewhere,"  said  the  attorney  with  a  side 
glance  at  the  audience.  "Now,  Mr.  Witness," 
pointing  his  forefinger  at  Sam  and  speaking  with 
great  deliberation  and  distinctness,  "don't  you 
know,  sir,  if  you  know  anything,  that  livery- 
stable  horses  usually  leave  the  stable-yard  very 
slowly  and  come  back  a  good  deal  faster?  Don't 
you  know  that,  sir?" 

'Yes,  that  is  usually  the  case." 

"And  that  was  the  case  this  afternoon,  was  it 
not,  sir?" 


STATE    VERSUS  A.   P.   DRAKE          91 

"That  was  the  case  with  the  pair  of  horses, 
apparently." 

"Aha!  I  thought  I  should  get  something  if  I 
tried  long  enough,  sir.  So  the  pair  of  horses  were 
going  slowly?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Now,  sir,  you  are  under  oath.  You  know 
what  that  means,  I  suppose,  sir?" 

"I  do,  sir." 

"Now,  sir,"  speaking  very  deliberately,  "did 
you  not  say  only  a  moment  ago  that  the  pair 
were  prancing?" 

"I  did  say  so." 

"  Oh,  you  did.  Well,  how  do  you  reconcile  that 
statement  with  your  statement  —  given  under 
oath,  sir,  remember  that,  and  your  Honor"  (turn 
ing  to  the  Court) , "  I  should  like  to  have  this  taken 
down  very  carefully  as  we  may  need  his  exact 
words  later"  (turning  to  Sam)  -  "that  the  pair 
of  horses  were  going  very  slowly?  Now,  sir,  no 
equivocation!" 

"That  would  depend,  sir,  upon  your  definition 
of  prancing,"  replied  Sam  coolly. 

"Oh,  it  would,  sir?  Well,  perhaps  you  will  be 
good  enough  to  enlighten  us  with  your  definition 
of  prancing,  sir." 

"Certainly,  sir;  my  definition  of  prancing  is 
jumping  up  and  down  without  getting  ahead." 

"Just  what  my  Brother  Blunt  has  been  doing 


92  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

all  through  this  case,"  broke  in  the  Squire  with 
a  chuckle,  and  the  audience  laughed. 

"I  object,  your  Honor,  to  these  interruptions 
and  this  laughter,  and  I  ask  to  have  the  room 
cleared,"  said  Mr.  Blunt  in  a  fury. 

"I  guess,  Brother  Blunt,  the  Court  can  hardly 
order  the  room  cleared  or  blame  the  audience  for 
doing  exactly  what  the  Court  did.  I  laughed  with 
the  rest,"  said  the  Court  good-naturedly;  "I 
guess  we  will  proceed." 

"Well,  sir,"  continued  Mr.  Blunt,  after  he  had 
consulted  a  moment  with  the  complainant,  "if 
this  pair  of  horses  were  going  as  slowly  as  you  say 
they  were  and  Chris  was  also  going  slowly  as  you 
say  he  was,  how  could  they  have  come  together 
with  force  enough  to  break  the  carriage?" 

"I  did  not  say  Chris's  horse  was  going  slowly." 

"What?  Did  n't  you  say  a  moment  ago  that 
stable  horses  left  their  stable-yards  slowly?" 

"I  did  say  that  was  usually  the  case.  But  it 
was  n't  the  case  with  Chris's  horse,  and  there  was 
a  pretty  good  reason  for  it,"  said  Sam,  with  more 
animation  than  he  had  shown. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir?"  demanded 
the  attorney,  disregarding  a  warning  tug  at  his 
coat-tails  by  his  client. 

"I  mean  just  this,  that  Chris  gave  his  horse  a 
cruel  slash  with  his  whip  just  as  he  turned  out  of 
the  yard." 


STATE    VERSUS  A.   P.   DRAKE          93 

"That's  a  lie!"  shouted  Chris,  jumping  to  his 
feet. 

"That's  the  truth,"  shouted  Sam,  his  eyes 
flashing  sparks,  "and  if  you  look  at  that  horse 
to-day  you  will  find  a  long  welt  on  him,  or  I  don't 
know  anything  about  horses." 

The  Justice  pounded  on  the  table.  "Gentle 
men,"  he  said  sternly,  "that  is  an  interruption 
that  this  Court  does  not  tolerate.  This  is  a  court, 
not  a  stable  or  a  barroom,  and  not  a  place  to  pass 
the  lie  or  insult  a  witness.  If  there  is  any  repeti 
tion  of  this  offense,  I  shall  so  deal  with  the  of 
fender  that  he  will  be  very  sorry  for  it." 

"Proceed,  Mr.  Blunt,"  he  said  after  a  pause  in 
which  the  stillness  was  painful. 

"One  moment,  your  Honor,"  interrupted  the 
Squire,  rising.  "The  witness  has  said  something 
about  an  examination  of  this  horse.  It  was  a  good 
suggestion,  and  I  wish  to  serve  notice  on  the  com 
plainant  to  bring  that  horse  into  court  as  a  wit 
ness  in  this  case." 

"I  can't  do  that,  your  Honor,"  said  Chris 
quickly;  "the  horse  is  out  of  town  for  several 
days  on  a  trip." 

"Out  of  town!"  thundered  the  Squire;  "didn't 
you  just  say  that  horse  was  lame?" 

;' Yes,  but  he  was  n't  so  lame  but  that  I  could 
drive  him  careful.  Anyway,  he  is  gone  and  that 's 
all  there  is  to  it,"  said  Chris  stubbornly. 


94  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

It  was  noticeable,  however,  that  Bob  Tibbetts 
slid  out  of  the  door  at  this  and  went  up  the 
street  with  some  haste. 

"Any  more  questions,  Mr.  Blunt?"  said  the 
Court. 

"That's  all  I  want  of  you,  sir,"  said  the  at 
torney  meaningly.  ''That's  our  case,  your 
Honor,"  he  finally  said  after  conferring  with 
Chris. 

"Senator  Hilton!"  called  the  Squire,  and  a 
tall,  handsome,  portly  man,  with  ruddy  counte 
nance  and  a  stock,  took  the  stand  and  the  oath 
ponderously  and  with  dignity. 

'Your  name,  Senator,"  said  the  Squire. 

'You  need  n't  trouble  to  further  qualify  the 
witness,"  smiled  the  Justice.  "The  Senator  is 
sufficiently  well  known." 

The  Senator  inclined  courteously  to  the  Court. 

"State  whether  or  not  you  saw  the  trouble  be 
tween  Christopher  Blunt  and  Major  Drake 
yesterday?" 

"I  had  that  fortune,  if  indeed  fortune  it  could 
be  called,  sir,  to  view  a  little  misunderstanding 
between  —  ah  —  our  local  Boniface  and  Mr. 
Blunt." 

"Where  was  Mr.  Blunt  when  you  saw  him 
first?" 

"  Mr.  Blunt  came  out  of  his  place  of  business 
driving  a  tall,  rangy  —  ah  —  bay  horse  at  a  most 


STATE    VERSUS  A.   P.   DRAKE          95 

ungodly  rate  of  speed,  sir,  a  most  astonishingly 
rapid  rate,  sir.  The  beast  he  was  driving  had 
been  stimulated  to  so  rapid  a  gait  by  one  or  more 
—  ah  —  swipes,  you  might  call  them,  with  a 
whip,"  and  the  Senator  paused  and  blew  a  most 
astounding  toot  upon  a  large  red  handkerchief, 
to  the  unbounded  amusement  of  the  audience. 

"Go  on,  Senator,"  said  the  Squire.  "What 
happened  next?" 

"From  the  opposite  direction  came  a  pair  of 
horses  drawing  a  new  and  beautiful  carriage 
filled  with  ladies,  and  driven  by  Mr.  Rawle. 
This  team  was  near  the  middle  of  the  street, 
going  very  slowly  and  leaving  plenty  of  room  for 
a  carriage  to  pass  on  either  side.  The  complain 
ant  apparently  drove  directly  on  to  the  de 
fendant's  carriage  and  there  was  a  collision." 

"Go  on,  Senator,"  said  the  Squire.  "One 
question,  please;  just  where  did  the  collision 
occur?" 

"In front  of  the  west  end  of  the  Rumscott,  sir." 

"Now,  proceed." 

"Well,  sir,  the  complainant  stood  up  in  his 
carriage  and  swore,  sir,  like  the  Army  of  Flan 
ders,  yes,  sir,  I  can  think  of  no  more  apt  simile 
than  that  historic  asseveration,"  and  the  Senator 
essayed  another  bugle  note. 

"What  did  the  people  in  the  carriage  do, 
Senator?"  prompted  the  Squire. 


96  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"The  ladies  screamed,  sir,  the  gentleman  was 
thrown  half  over  the  dashboard,  and  the  driver, 
Mr.  Rawle,  was  displaying  a  most  excellent 
brand  of  profanity,  nearly  equal  to  that  of  the 
complainant." 

"What  became  of  the  horses?" 

'The  pair  reared  and  plunged,  but  the  young 
man  who  last  testified  caught  them  by  their 
heads  and  held  them  until  some  of  the  hostlers 
came.  Then  he  assisted  the  ladies  out  of  the  car 
riage,  sir,  with  marked  courtesy, — marked  cour 
tesy,"  and  the  Senator  bowed  courteously  to  Sam. 

'Then,  sir,"  he  continued,  "a  new  element 
arrived  upon  the  scene  in  the  person  of  our  good 
friend,  the  Major,  sir,  who  came  upon  the  scene 
like  a  roaring  lion,  sir,  like  a  —  a  —  rampaging 
gorilla,  sir.  At  that  moment  the  complainant 
was  negotiating  a  most  astounding  series  of  ob 
jurgations,  when  the  Major  grasped  him  by  the 
collar  with  one  hand  and  by  the  seat  of  the  trou 
sers  with  the  other,  dragged  him  from  the  car 
riage,  and  thrashed  him,  sir,  as  soundly  as  a 
mischievous  boy  was  ever  thrashed  by  a  stern 
parent.  Yes,  sir,  soundly,  sir,  and  very  thor 
oughly." 

'Then,  sir,"  continued  the  witness,  "several 
stablemen  from  the  rival  stables  rushed  into  the 
fray  and  it  was  as  if  some  one  had  cried  - 

Havoc,  and  let  loose  the  dogs  of  war ; 


STATE    VERSUS  A.  P.  DRAKE          97 

the  engagement  became  general,  sir,  until  our 
faithful  guardians  of  the  peace  came  along  in 
their  respective  conveyances  and  separated  the 
combatants,  but  not  before  the  Major  had  been 
dragged  away  from  his  cowering  victim  by  Mr. 
Randolph,  who  showed  great  strength  and  dex 
terity.  That,  sir,  is  all  I  know  about  it." 

;'You  may  have  the  witness,  Brother  Blunt," 
said  the  Squire. 

:'The  Major  did,  then,  as  you  have  said,  beat 
the  complainant  without  mercy,  did  he  not?" 
asked  the  prosecuting  attorney. 

"Not  quite  that,  Mr.  Blunt;  I  said  he  thrashed 
him  as  soundly  as  any  mischievous  boy  was  ever 
thrashed  by  a  stern  parent,  which  to  my  mind  is 
very  different." 

"How  is  it  different,  sir?  Explain,  sir,  if  you 
can!"  sneered  the  attorney. 

"My  answer,  sir,  implies  punishment,  —  con 
dign  punishment,  sir,"  replied  the  Senator. 

"Well,  sir,"  snapped  the  attorney,  "if  you  can 
explain  any  difference  between  punishment  and 
so  severe  a  beating  as  my  client  has  received,  I 
should  like  to  hear  it.  Explain,  sir,  explain.  I 
think  the  Court  would  like  to  hear  it." 

"Punishment,  your  Honor,  implies  an  offense 
for  the  commission  of  which  expiation  is  to  be 
made.  Milton  has  said 

'  A  greater  power  now  ruled  him,  punished  in  the  shape  he  sinned,' 


98  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

quite  appropriate  to  the  present  case,  your 
Honor,"  and  the  Senator  inclined  grandly  to  the 
Court,  and  blew  the  officer's  call  with  great 
clearness. 

"So,"  said  the  prosecuting  attorney,  "you 
think  it  a  proper  thing  for  a  big  brute  of  a  man 
weighing  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  to  take  a 
man  weighing  one  hundred  and  forty  or  fifty 
pounds,  half  his  weight  and  size,  drag  him  out  of 
his  carriage,  and  beat  him  within  an  inch  of  his 
life,  do  you,  sir?  Answer  me,  sir,  is  that  your 
opinion?"  shouted  the  attorney,  brandishing  his 
fists. 

"No,  sir;  that  is  not  my  opinion,"  said  the  Sen 
ator. 

"Oh,  it 's  not,  is  n't  it;  well,  what  is  your  opin 
ion  of  the  matter?  —  that  is,  if  you  can  stick  to 
one  idea  long  enough  to  tell  it,"  demanded  the 
attorney  with  an  ugly  sneer. 

"My  idea,  sir,"  said  the  Senator,  leaning  for 
ward  and  marking  his  points  with  his  forefinger, 
"is  this:  When  I  see  a  man  deliberately  and  with 
malice  aforethought  - 

"I  object,  Senator,"  shouted  the  attorney. 

"Proceed,  Senator,"  from  the  Court. 

"Drive  against  another  man's  carriage  - 

"I  object,  your  Honor,  I  object!" 

-  Man's  carriage,  destroying  valuable  pro 
perty,  endangering  life,  and  exciting  brawl,  sir, 


STATE   VERSUS  A.  P.  DRAKE          99 

and  tumult,  sir,  in  a  public  street  and  place,  sir, 
that  man  deserves  a  sound  thrashing;  and  if  he 
gets  it,  sir,  on  the  spot,  sir,  the  ends  of  Justice  are 
served,  sir,  and  the  man  who  thrashed  him  ought 
to  get  a  pension.  That,  sir,  is  my  idea,"  and  the 
Senator  quite  outdid  himself  in  the  variety  and 
clearness  of  his  arpeggio  bugle  notes. 

;'This  is  a  high-handed  outrage,  your  Honor," 
said  the  prosecuting  attorney,  crimson  with  in 
dignation.  "Opinions  of  witnesses,  not  experts, 
are  never  admissible,  never  competent.  That  is 
the  most  rudimentary  element  of  the  law  of  ev 
idence,  and  yet  your  Honor  has  allowed  the  wit 
ness,  in  spite  of  my  repeated  objections,  to  give 
his  opinion,  and  a  most  prejudiced  and  unreliable 
opinion,  on  this  matter,  and  I  object,  your  Honor, 
I  object." 

"Brother  Blunt,"  said  the  Court  urbanely, 
"your  law  of  evidence  is  unquestionably  correct, 
and  had  you  not  asked  him  his  opinion,  I  should 
not  have  allowed  him  to  give  it,  but  as  your  ques 
tion  expressly  asked  his  opinion,  and  quite  un 
fairly  intimated  the  witness's  inability  to  stick  to 
one  idea  long  enough  to  give  any  opinion,  it  does 
not  seem  to  me  that  you  have  any  right  to  ob 
ject." 

"If  the  evidence  is  closed,  counsel  for  defense 
will  proceed  with  his  argument,"  said  the  Court. 

The  old  Squire  rose  slowly  to  his  full  stature, 


100  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

looked  coldly  and  steadily  at  the  complainant 
until  he  squirmed  in  his  chair  and  his  legs  became 
quite  convulsive,  then  bowed  to  the  Court  and 
began  his  argument. 

"May  it  please  your  Honor,  I  feel  that  an  apol 
ogy  may  be  necessary  for  taking  so  much  of  valu 
able  time  over  a  case  of  this  nature.  My  client 
has  undoubtedly  committed  a  legal  assault  and 
a  battery,  unjustifiable  according  to  the  tenets  of 
the  law,  undignified  under  the  code  of  a  gentle 
man,  but  none  the  less  an  assault,  but  an  assault 
of  a  simple  not  of  aggravated  nature. 

'The  complaint  is  for  an  assault  of  an  aggra 
vated  nature,  an  offense  beyond  your  Honor's 
jurisdiction.  You  can,  at  the  worst,  do  no  more 
than  hold  the  respondent  in  sureties  for  his  ap 
pearance  at  the  Superior  Court.  You  cannot 
even  find  the  respondent  guilty  of  a  simple  as 
sault  under  this  complaint.  A  jury  in  the  Su 
perior  Court  could,  but  only  because  that  is  a 
court  of  final  jurisdiction. 

"But  will  your  Honor  under  the  evidence  hold 
the  respondent  for  the  Superior  Court?  I  think 
not.  I  believe  your  Honor  thinks  not.  When  a 
rascally  small  boy  commits  an  inexcusable  act 
of  malicious  mischief,  he  is  soundly  caned  or 
spanked,  and  a  lawyer  bringing  an  action  against 
the  man  who  disciplines  him,  would  be  laughed 
out  of  court.  Yet  here  is  a  man  grown,  commit- 


STATE   VERSUS  A.  P.  DRAKE        101 

ting  a  dastardly,  dangerous,  malicious  assault 
upon  four  people,  without  a  shadow  of  excuse, 
without  a  shred  of  justification,  —  an  act  which 
destroys  valuable  property,  endangers  the  lives 
of  women,  and  creates  a  scene  of  disorder,  an  un 
seemly  brawl  upon  a  public  street,  and  he  is 
soundly  thrashed  for  it.  There  is  nothing  more 
than  an  assault,  as  justifiable  an  assault  as  could 
well  be.  No,  your  Honor,  under  this  complaint 
this  respondent  must  be  discharged. 

"But  I  am  willing  that  my  Brother  Blunt 
should  draw  a  new  complaint  for  simple  assault, 
to  which  my  client  will  plead  guilty." 

And  the  Squire  sat  down. 

In  an  instant  the  prosecuting  attorney  was  on 
his  feet  with  fiery  \\ords  of  denunciation  pouring 
from  his  lips.  There  never  had  been  so  outrageous 
an  assault,  never  so  brutal  an  outrage,  never  such  a 
miscarriage  of  justice,  should  the  respondent  be 
discharged.  He  had  practiced  law  for  thirty  years 
and  never  in  all  his  experience  had  he  seen  a  more 
brutal,  dastardly,  cruel,  unusual,  or  unheard-of 
brutality  offered  to  a  respectable  citizen.  Did  we 
live  in  America,  the  land  of  equal  rights,  and 
were  these  the  rights  guaranteed  us  by  the  De 
claration  of  Independence,  or  did  we  live  in"Roo- 
shia,"  where  the  wolves  lurked  at  our  back  and 
the  knout  whistled  at  our  door?  He  was  slightly 
mixed  in  his  illustrations,  which  was  attributed 


102  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

to  his  righteous  indignation.  He  passionately 
called  High  Heaven  to  witness  that  prehistoric 
want  of  civilization  that  might  justify  murder, 
should  the  Courts  fail  in  justice.  He  inveighed 
against  the  Squire's  arrogant  methods  of  cross- 
examination,  his  unfair  interposition  of  techni 
calities  to  prevent  a  brutal  assailant  from  getting 
his  just  deserts,  and  closed  with  an  impassioned 
appeal  that  the  Justice  do  one  of  two  things, 
either  to  hold  the  Major  for  the  Grand  Jury  in 
the  sum  of  one  thousand  dollars  for  aggravated 
assault,  or  to  sentence  him  to  six  months  in  jail 
and  put  him  under  bonds  to  keep  the  peace  and 
be  of  good  behavior  for  one  year.  Then  he  glared 
balefully  at  the  Major  and  sat  down. 

The  Justice  leaned  forward  and  removed  his 
spectacles. 

'The  Court  finds  this  assault  to  be  a  simple 
assault  and  not  of  an  aggravated  nature.  It  rules 
pro  forma  that  the  legal  objection  of  the  respond 
ent's  counsel  is  valid.  If  the  complainant's  coun 
sel  wishes  to  draw  another  complaint  for  simple 
assault,  the  Court  will  arraign  the  respondent 
again,  and,  should  he  plead  guilty  or  nolo  as  the 
complainant's  counsel  has  suggested,  the  Court 
will  proceed  to  sentence." 

To  this  Mr.  Blunt  sulkily  agreed,  and  a  new 
complaint  was  drawn,  to  which  the  Major 
pleaded  nolo  contendere,  and  was  sentenced  to  pay 


STATE   VERSUS  A.  P.  DRAKE        103 

a  fine  of  five  dollars  and  costs  of  eight  dollars  and 
sixty-two  cents,  which  he  paid  and  Court  ad 
journed,  the  Major  in  high  glee  being  escorted  in 
triumph  to  his  hotel  where  libations  were  in 
dulged  in.  The  brothers  Blunt  retired  in  high 
dudgeon  and  the  crowd  dispersed. 


CHAPTER  VII 

POLLY 

AT  the  close  of  the  trial,  Sam  hurried  to  his  be 
lated  dinner.  Almost  all  the  guests  had  left 
the  dining-room  when  he  arrived,  and  the  smiling 
proprietor  Alvy  and  his  family  were  at  their  ta 
ble.  Sam  had  not  yet  met  Mrs.  Dole  and  the 
daughters,  but  had  seen  Ed,  the  boy.  As  Sam 
entered  the  room,  Alvy  called  to  him  and  intro 
duced  him  to  Mrs.  Dole,  a  rather  handsome  wo 
man  of  about  Alvy's  age,  wearing  a  discontented 
expression,  and  of  a  rather  sallow  complexion. 
The  daughters  were  young  ladies  of  eighteen  and 
sixteen,  both  pretty,  the  older  exceedingly  hand 
some,  but  wearing,  like  her  mother,  a  somewhat 
peevish  expression. 

Sam  bowed  low  over  their  small,  shapely  hands 
and  said  a  few  pleasant  words,  and  nodded  to 
Ed,  who  looked  at  him  with  open-eyed  admira 
tion  as  the  man  who  threw  Bill  Evans  across 
the  road.  As  Sam  went  to  his  table,  he  was 
somewhat  amused  to  hear  Ed  explain  to  his  sis 
ters  that  he  pitied  him  when  Bill  got  him  alone. 
He  bet  Bill  could  "knock  seven  kinds  of  pea- 
green  stuffin'  outer  him,"  at  which  volunteered 


POLLY  105 

opinion  his  sister  rather  crossly  told  him  to 
"Shut  up." 

While  Sam  was  giving  his  order  to  the  table 
girl,  a  tall,  straight,  very  dignified  man,  evidently 
slightly  under  the  influence  of  liquor,  stalked  into 
the  room.  He  was  dressed  in  a  somewhat  remark 
able  costume;  he  wore  a  linen  shirt  with  a  very 
high  collar,  kept  in  place  by  a  sort  of  compromise 
between  a  stock  and  a  four-in-hand  tie.  A  black 
frock  coat,  evidently  of  a  by-gone  vogue,  open  in 
front,  disclosed  a  figured  silk  vest,  while  a  pair  of 
ludicrously  wrinkled,  wide,  yellow  linen  trousers 
reached  only  to  within  six  inches  of  his  ankles, 
disclosing  grayish  socks,  ending  in  a  pair  of  car 
pet  slippers  worked  in  fancy  colors.  In  spite  of 
this  bizarre  costume,  his  manners  were  so  digni 
fied,  he  was  so  straight,  so  stiff,  so  altogether  un 
usual  and  good  to  look  at,  that  his  clothes  seemed 
a  by  no  means  incongruous  detail. 

At  once  Alvy  sprang  to  his  feet,  and,  greeting 
the  stranger  as  Captain,  ushered  him  to  a  seat  at 
Sam's  table,  and  introduced  him  to  Sam  as  "Cap 
tain  Hilton"  of  this  town.  Sam  shook  hands  very 
cordially  with  the  Captain,  who,  with  his  hand  on 
his  heart,  said  that  he  was  "glad  indeed,  sir,  to 
welcome  him  to  a  town,  sir,  rich  in  historic  asso 
ciation,  prolific  in  its  industries,  dignified  and  ele 
vated  in  its  ideals,  sir." 

Sam,  somewhat  amused  at  his  earnestness  and 


106  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

his  dignified  courtesy,  said  he  had  begun  to  real 
ize  the  unusual  attractions  of  the  village,  and 
mentioned  the  trial  of  the  morning  as  something 
rather  out  of  the  ordinary. 

"Ah,  my  dear  young  sir,  if  one  so  much  older 
than  you  may  be  permitted  such  a  familiarity,  you 
will  find  discordant  elements  even  in  the  —  ah  — 
harmony  of  nature.  In  the  animal  world  we  have 
the  skunk,  the  polecat,  the  weasel,  and  the  civet; 
turning  to  the  feathered  world,  we  have  the  - 
ah  —  hawk,  the  owl,  the  crow,  and  the  shrike; 
the  manifold  beauties  and  —  ah  —  usefulness  of 
the  vegetable  world  are  sullied  by  an  altogether 
too  generous  admixture  of  burdock,  ragweed, 
white  weed,  and  a  gruesome  sort  of  fungus  that  in 
August  grows  under  the  front  steps  and  leads  to 
the  belief  that  something  has  died  there.  Some  of 
the  —  ah  —  gentlemen  you  saw  this  morning  are 
of  the  class  of  —  ah  —  predatory  animals,  birds  of 
prey,  parasites  —  ah  —  what  you  wish,  sir,  what 
you  wish,  damned  rascals." 

Sam  laughed,  and  said  as  the  soup  came  on, 
"Excuse  me,  sir,  but  I  think  you  must  be  the 
brother  of  Senator  Hilton,  whom  I  met  this  morn 
ing,  and  who,  I  assure  you,  was  much  more  than 
a  match  for  Attorney  Blunt." 

"Ah  — yes,  sir,"  said  the  Captain,  urbanely, 
"I  have  the  distinguished  honor,  sir,  of  being  the 
older  brother  of  that  distinguished  gentleman,  sir. 


POLLY  107 

You  have,  I  apprehend,  made  as  yet  no  further 
acquaintance  with  my  family,  sir?" 

"Not  yet,  sir,"  said  Sam;  "I  trust  that  pleas 
ure  is  in  store  for  me." 

"Without  doubt,  sir,  without  doubt.  It  would 
be  an  honor,  I  assure  you.  I  have  three  brothers, 
all  unmarried,  sir,  as  I  am.  My  brother  Oilman, 
sir,  the  Senator,  is  a  statesman,  sir;  my  brother 
Archibald  is  a  —  ah  —  a  gentleman,  sir;  my  bro 
ther  Amory  is  a  damned  fool, sir;  yes, sir, a  worthy 
man,  but  none  the  less  a  damned  fool,  sir." 

"Indeed,  and  how  does  it  happen  that  he 
should  differ  so  radically  from  his  brothers?" 
queried  Sam,  unconsciously  adopting  the  lan 
guage  of  the  Captain. 

"He  descends  to  manual  labor,  sir,  —  milks, 
rubs  down  horses,  pitches  manure,  sir,  hoes  corn, 
chops  wood.  Could  not  tell  the  orations  of  Pat 
rick  Henry  from  those  of  Patrick  Cassidy,  sir. 
Should  I  address  him  in  the  immortal  words  of 
Cicero, — and  I  assure  you,  sir,  that  they  would 
fully  express  my  sentiments  in  regard  to  my  bro 
ther,  sir,  — 

'  Quousque  tandem  abutere  nostram  patientiam,' 
he  would  be  unable  to  distinguish  it  from  Chero 
kee,  sir,  from  Pawnee,  from  Choctaw,  from 
Canadian  patois,  sir.  He,  sir,  a  scion  of  a 
family  that  numbers  among  its  members  schol 
ars,  governors,  generals,  literary  men!  Yes,  sir, 


108  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

it  gives  me  profound  sorrow,  sir,  to  chronicle  such 
a  divergence  from  the  racial  or  family  traits  or 
characteristics,  profound  sorrow";  and  the  Cap 
tain  attacked  his  roast  lamb  with  an  appetite  that 
profound  sorrow  could  not  dull. 

After  a  time  the  Captain  began  again.  "As  ad 
ministrator  of  my  late  father's  estate,  sir,  I  have 
under  my  charge  tenement  houses,  a  block  of 
stores,  wharf  property,  and  a  large  farm  of  six 
hundred  acres,  or  I  should  say,  to  be  more  accur 
ate,  several  farms  that  adjoin  each  other.  My 
father,  sir,  had  a  fatal  longing  to  buy  all  the  land 
adjoining  his,  and,  by  the  Eternal!  sir,  had  he 
lived  I  believe  he  would  have  bought  to  the  sea- 
coast,  sir,  ten  miles  away.  As  a  result  we  are  land 
poor,  sir,  land  poor.  But  for  an  occasional  sale  of 
timber,  sir,  I  am  afraid  we  should  be  obliged  to 
part  with  some  of  it,  which  would  be  a  blow  at  the 
traditions  of  the  family,  sir.  The  Hiltons  hold 
their  land,  sir,  --they  hold  their  land;  by  the 
gods!  sir,  they  hold  their  lands!" 

Sam,  who  by  this  time  had  finished  his  dinner, 
arose,  and  pleading  an  engagement,  bade  the 
Captain  good-day.  The  Captain  rose  with  much 
ceremony,  shook  his  hand  vigorously,  and  invited 
Sam  to  call  on  him  at  an  early  date,  promising 
him  to  lay  aside  business  calls  and  to  devote  his 
entire  time  to  his  proper  entertainment  and  en 
lightenment. 


POLLY  109 

As  Sam  left  the  dining-room  he  heard  the  Cap 
tain  say,  "Alvy,  have  the  kindness  to  order  the 
clerk  to  bring  me  a  small  glass,  but  not  too  small, 
of  New  England  Rum  with  a  dash  of  bitters  in 
it." 

That  afternoon  Sam  hired  a  skiff  and  took  a 
long  pull  up  the  winding  stream.  He  passed  sev 
eral  boats,  some  filled  with  young  girls  and  their 
escorts,  the  ladies  trailing  their  fair  hands  in  the 
water,  and  keeping  the  boats  on  uneven  keels,  to 
the  unspoken  distress  of  the  rowers;  some  con 
taining  two  men,  one  of  whom  paddled  while  the 
other,  erect  in  the  bow,  "skipped"  for  pickerel, 
and  he  was  interested  to  see  several  fine  fish 
landed.  The  air  was  soft,  the  sun  partly  con 
cealed  by  thin  clouds.  He  passed  two  swimming- 
places  teeming  with  small  boys,  who  splashed  and 
shrieked,  dove  and  swam  like  otters,  while  those 
on  the  bank,  clad  in  little  more  than  thick  coats 
of  tan  necked  with  sunshine,  scurried  behind 
trees  and  bushes  as  the  boats  containing  the 
ladies  hove  in  sight. 

At  a  quarter  of  six  that  afternoon,  Sam  ran  up 
the  dusty  stairs  to  the  Squire's  office.  As  he  en 
tered,  a  man  came  out,  —  a  big,  burly,  red-faced 
man. 

He  turned  in  the  doorway  and  said  loudly, 
"Then,  you  won't  take  the  case,  Squire,  at  any 
figure?" 


110  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"No,  Symmes,"  replied  the  Squire's  voice, 
"you  have  n't  money  enough;  and  there  isn't 
money  enough  in  the  world  to  retain  me  in  that 
kind  of  a  case." 

"All  right,  then;  but,  by  God!  I  can  find  law 
yers  who  will  take  it,"  growled  the  man. 

"Perhaps  so,  but  I  hope  not,"  said  the  Squire, 
as  the  man,  turning  abruptly,  collided  violently 
with  Sam,  profanely  demanded  if  he  could  n't  see 
where  he  was  going,  and  stamped  angrily  down 
the  stairs,  before  Sam  could  retort. 

"Hello,  Sam,"  said  the  Squire,  cheerfully; 
"come  in  and  sit  down.  I  will  be  through  in  a 
minute." 

Sam  sat  down  in  a  chair  in  front  of  the  window 
and  waited  while  the  Squire  placed  some  bundles 
of  papers  in  the  safe,  locked  it,  sealed  a  few  let 
ters,  which  he  gave  to  his  stenographer  to  post, 
bade  her  good-night,  and  courteously  held  the 
door  open  as  she  passed  through. 

Then  putting  on  a  soft  slouch  hat,  he  signified 
that  he  was  ready,  and  they  passed  down  the 
stairway  just  as  the  clock  was  striking  six,  and 
the  rush  from  the  mills  and  shops  began.  The 
Squire  and  Sam  crossed  by  the  Court  House  to 
avoid  the  jostling  crowd,  and  again  Sam  scanned 
the  men  and  women  with  a  keen  interest  that  did 
not  escape  the  sharp  eyes  of  the  Squire. 

"You  seem  interested,  Sam;  I  should  scarcely 


POLLY  111 

suppose  a  crowd  of  this  size  would  attract  the  at 
tention  of  a  city  man,"  said  the  Squire. 

:<Yes,"  said  Sam,  "I  am  always  interested  in 
people,  even  a  crowd  of  city  people.  Indeed,  I  can 
sit  in  a  crowded  railroad  station  for  hours,  look 
ing  at  the  people  and  speculating  upon  their  bus 
iness,  their  homes,  their  interests,  who  they  are, 
where  they  are  going  and  all  sorts  of  thoughts  of 
that  kind.  But  this  procession  of  working  people 
in  a  town  is  new  to  me  and  tremendously  inter 
esting." 

;'Yes,  there  are  some  amusing  people  in  a 
crowd  of  that  kind.  See  that  small  man  opposite 
with  the  enormous  drooping  moustache,  walk 
ing  with  the  big  fat  man  with  the  short  stubby 
moustache,"  said  the  Squire,  trying  to  draw 
Sam  out. 

"Yes,  I  see,"  said  Sam,  smiling,  "they  are  in 
teresting  and  amusing  as  contrasts;  but  I  never 
think  of  them  as  laughable,  but  as  interesting. 
Much  more  pathetic  than  funny." 

:'Yes,  they  are  pathetic  enough,  and  the  lives 
of  many  of  them  are  hard  enough,  God  knows," 
said  the  Squire,  "but  their  lives  in  a  town  of  this 
kind  are  much  better  than  in  a  city.  They  are 
practically  sure  of  a  living  and  a  fairly  comfort 
able  one.  Of  course,  many  of  them  drink,  and 
that  don't  make  things  any  more  comfortable 
and  easy  for  their  wives  and  children." 


112  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

''That  is  one  thing  I  have  noticed  here,"  said 
Sam.  ''There  are  more  liquor  saloons  than  gro 
cery  stores,  or  provision  stores,  and  this  is  a  pro 
hibition  State,  is  n't  it?" 

'Yes,  a  prohibition  State,  but  by  no  means  a 
dry  state,"  replied  the  Squire. 

"So  I  see,"  said  Sam  dryly,  "and  I  cannot 
quite  understand  it." 

"Well,  Sam,  first  and  last  there  have  been  a 
good  many  spasmodic  attempts  to  drive  it  out, 
but  they  have  never  had  much  effect,"  smiled  the 
Squire. 

"What  is  the  reason?"  asked  Sam,  kicking  a 
pebble  out  of  the  path. 

"Public  opinion,  mainly,"  replied  the  Squire, 
"added  to  the  ill-judged  methods  of  the  reform 
ers.  The  public  is  in  many  ways  like  a  big  ob 
stinate  boy ;  also  something  like  a  mule.  You  can 
persuade  it  to  do  most  anything,  but  when  you 
begin  to  thrash  an  idea  out  of  its  head,  and  an 
other  one  in,  your  arm  tires  before  the  boy  or  the 
mule  does." 

"I  wonder  if  this  town  is  like  other  country 
towns?"  asked  Sam  in  a  thoughtful  manner. 

"Why,  yes,  I  think  so,"  replied  the  Squire; 
"very  much  so  I  should  say.  The  fact  that  it  is 
older  than  most  of  the  towns  in  the  State,  and 
larger  than  all  but  two  or  three,  with  an  excellent 
school  system,  is  a  little  in  its  favor,  but  in  most 


POLLY  113 

respects  it  is  very  similar  to  other  manufacturing 
towns  or  villages.  Why  do  you  ask?" 

"Because,"  said  Sam,  hesitating  a  bit,  -  "be 
cause  in  the  short  time  I  have  been  here  I  have 
been  treated  with  more  kindness  and  considera 
tion,  and  experienced  more  coarseness,  boorish- 
ness,  and  ill-breeding  than  ever  before  in  my  life 
in  a  much  longer  time.  And  I  am  rather  at  a  loss 
to  reconcile  these  things." 

The  Squire  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 
*'I  don't  blame  you  for  being  mystified  over  it," 
he  said,  "and  it  is  really  no  laughing  matter,  but 
a  shame,  and  I  cannot  explain  it  myself.  Our 
town  is  on  the  main  line,  and  has  had  for  years 
good  opportunities  for  improvement  and  for  cul 
ture,  but  notwithstanding  this,  we  are  years  be 
hind.  We  long  ago  outgrew  the  cowhide  boot  and 
paper  collar  stage,  but  are  yet  in  the  plush  album 
and  diagonal  coat  development.  It  is  a  sort  of 
conservatism,  I  suppose." 

As  the  Squire  said  this,  he  turned  into  a  quiet 
side  street,  along  which  magnificent  elms  with 
drooping  limbs  stood  like  sentinels.  Down  the 
street  they  went  to  a  beautiful  field  of  forty  or 
fifty  acres  sloping  to  the  river. 

On  the  edge  of  the  field  stood  the  Squire's 
house,  an  old-fashioned,  square,  two-storied 
house  with  a  large  barn  in  the  rear.  To  the  east 
of  the  barn  was  a  garden,  primly  laid  out  in  vege- 


114  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

table  beds,  and  studded  with  pear,  apple,  peach, 
and  plum  trees.  The  southern  exposure  of  the 
barn  was  overrun  with  a  giant  grapevine,  while 
halfway  down  the  garden  path  was  a  grape  arbor 
thickly  covered  with  a  web  of  interlacing  vines. 

At  the  west  side  of  the  house,  and  nearer  the 
street,  was  the  flower  garden,  with  its  old-fash 
ioned  border  of  box  and  its  quaint  and  gaudy 
flowers  of  a  bygone  date,  —  candy-tuft,  bach 
elor's  buttons,  pansies,  foxglove,  trumpet-vines, 
heliotrope,  striped  grass,  sweet  Williams,  sweet 
peas,  portulacca,  and  other  old  friends. 

The  side  porch  was  crowned  by  a  grand  wis 
taria,  while  a  row  of  sunflower  stalks  were  but 
beginning  to  develop  flowers  as  Sam  mounted 
the  steps.  A  small  girl  of  about  twelve  or  thir 
teen  sat  on  the  porch,  reading  so  intently  that  she 
did  not  notice  their  approach  until  she  heard  their 
feet  on  the  steps,  when  she  dropped  her  book  and 
came  down  the  steps  like  a  pixie,  crying,  "Oh, 
Uncle  Ira,  I  'm  so  sorry;  I  was  so  interested  in  my 
book  that  I  forgot  to  be  at  the  gate." 

"Well,  well,  Polly,  this  won't  do;  I  always  look 
first  for  you  at  the  gate." 

"I  know  it,  Uncle,"  and  she  put  up  her  lips  to 
kiss  him;  "I  won't  forget  it  another  time." 

"Polly,"  said  the  Squire,  "this  is  a  friend  of 
mine,  Mr.  Randolph;  I  call  him  Sam." 

"I  am  real  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Randolph," 


I    AM    A    SORT    OF    A    FARMER. 


POLLY  115 

said  the  child,  with  a  slight  emphasis  on  the  Mr., 
giving  Sam  her  hand  with  frankness,  and  looking 
him  straight  in  the  eyes. 

Sam  took  her  hand  in  a  firm  grasp,  and  bowed 
as  he  would  have  done  to  a  woman. 

"Miss  Polly,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "if  I  de 
cide  to  stay  in  Elmtown,  I  hope  we  shall  be  good 
friends.  I  feel  quite  sure  we  shall  be." 

"  I  am  sure  I  hope  you  will  stay,  Mr.  Ran 
dolph,"  smiled  Polly. 

Supper  was  served  on  the  piazza  by  a  neat  mid 
dle-aged  woman,  the  Squire  sitting  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  Polly  facing  him  at  the  other  end,  while 
Sam  sat  between  them  on  the  Squire's  right. 

To  Sam,  who  was  used  to  hotel  fare,  and  who 
had  lived  for  two  days  on  Alvy's  plain,  whole 
some,  but  not  over-delicate  food,  the  meal  was 
delicious.  It  seemed  to  him  he  had  never  tasted 
such  soup,  such  an  appetizing  roast,  such  a  deli 
cate  salad,  so  melting  a  dessert,  and  when  after 
the  meal  coffee  and  cigars  were  brought  and  they 
sipped  and  smoked  while  Polly  played  in  really 
excellent  style  Mendelssohn's  Venetianisches 
Gondellied  and  Frulingslied,  he  sighed  with  com 
plete  satisfaction. 

After  their  cigars  they  strolled  through  the 
garden,  and  rubbed  the  soft  nose  of  the  old  horse 
and  the  sleek  side  of  the  Jersey  cow  and  scratched 
the  backs  of  the  two  plump  pigs. 


116  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

:'Yes,  I  am  a  sort  of  farmer,"  said  the  Squire 
in  answer  to  a  question  of  Sam's,  "but  I  suppose 
my  milk  costs  me  about  sixteen  cents  a  quart,  my 
vegetables  three  times  the  market  price,  and  my 
fruit,  well,  I  never  get  any  fruit,  for  the  boys 
always  steal  most  of  it,  and  the  worms  get  the 
rest." 

"Mighty  little  the  worms  get  if  boys  are  the 
same  here  as  they  were  in  my  time,"  said  Sam, 
smiling.  "Why,  I  remember  when  I  used  to 
summer  in  York  State  that  some  of  the  town 
boys  and  I  used  to  begin  to  eat  apples  and  pears 
when  they  were  scarcely  more  than  peanuts  in 
size  and  concentrated  wormwood  and  vinegar  in 
taste,  and  follow  them  through  their  growth  un 
til  they  were  as  punky  as  an  old  squash.  Rot, 
worm-holes,  worms,  acid,  bitterness  were  all  one 
with  us.  They  were  apples  and  pears.  Why  they 
did  n't  kill  us,  Heaven  only  knows." 

;<  Yes,"  said  the  Squire,  flicking  the  ashes  from 
his  cigar,  "I  have  been  through  it  in  my  day,  and 
I  don't  remember  that  any  boy  died  of  colic. 
Occasionally  some  poor  chap  was  drowned,  and 
once  in  a  great  while  some  very  young  child  died 
of  fever  or  some  disease.  Small  doubt  that  a  good 
many  of  us  ought  to  have  been  hung.  But  why 
did  so  few  of  us  die?  Can  you  explain  it,  Sam?" 
asked  the  Squire. 

"Why,  I  imagine,  Squire,  that  the  excitement 


POLLY  117 

of  stealing,  or  '  hooking '  -  that  is  the  better 
word  —  apples,  pears,  grapes,  or  melons,  and  the 
difficulty  of  getting  them,  was  such  that  when 
ever  we  did  get  them  we  digested  them  without 
any  difficulty,"  replied  Sam. 

"If  that  is  a  good  reason,  Uncle,  you  ought  not 
to  let  the  little  boys  have  all  your  fruit  without 
working  to  get  it,"  chimed  in  Polly. 

"If  by  working  for  it,  you  mean  'hooking' 
them,  like  Sam  here,  I  can't  quite  agree  with  you, 
young  lady,"  replied  the  Squire  quickly. 

"I  didn't  mean  just  that,  Uncle,  but — but  — 

"But  you  don't  know  just  what  you  do  mean," 
said  Sam,  laughing. 

Polly  threw  up  her  chin.  "Thank  you,  Mr. 
Randolph,  I  know  perfectly  well  what  I  mean, 
but  it  is  n't  necessary  to  explain,"  she  said  with 
dignity. 

The  Squire  laughed.  "I  hope,  Sam,  you  feel 
properly  snubbed." 

"That  does  n't  half  express  my  feelings,"  said 
Sam.  "I  beg  Miss  Polly's  most  humble  pardon," 
he  continued,  bowing  low. 

Polly  smiled,  and  Sam  sat  down. 

Under  the  cedar  trees  in  the  front  yard  the 
shadows  were  gathering,  while  bats  began  their 
erratic  flight.  Crickets  and  grasshoppers  were 
filing  their  saws  in  the  grass,  a  late-singing  robin 
was  fluting  its  evening  song  from  the  top  of  a  tall 


118  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

elm,  and  one  by  one  the  lights  in  the  village 
across  the  wide  field  came  twinkling  into  sight. 

"Eight  o'clock,  Polly,"  said  the  Squire,  as  the 
deep  tones  of  the  old  church  bell  came  across  the 
field,  mellowed  by  the  distance. 

Polly  sighed,  then  rose,  offered  her  hand  to 
Sam,  her  lips  to  the  Squire,  said  good-night,  and 
entered  the  house.  Sam  who  had  risen  instinct 
ively,  as  if  she  had  been  a  grand  dame,  sat  down 
again. 

"A  charming  child,  Squire,"  said  Sam;  "your 
niece?" 

:' Yes,"  replied  the  Squire,  slowly  and  thought 
fully,  "my  niece." 

Sam  lit  a  fresh  cigar.  The  Squire  puffed  slowly, 
and  relapsed  into  silence.  The  robin,  having  fin 
ished  its  song,  flew  away  into  the  dusk  after 
sounding  its  sharp  alarm  note.  The  crickets  filed 
and  grated.  A  tiny  chipping  sparrow  twittered 
its  cheerful  song.  A  phoebe  bird  warbled  its  two- 
syllabled  plaint,  with  its  curious  alternately  ris 
ing  and  falling  note. 

The  Squire  threw  the  butt  of  his  cigar  into  the 
path,  where  the  glowing  end  faded  and  died  away. 
Then  he  turned  to  Sam. 

"Well,  my  boy,"  he  said,  "have  you  changed 
your  mind?" 

"No,  Mr.  Branch,  I  am  more  than  ever  in 
clined  to  try  it." 


POLLY  119 

"But  have  you  considered  the  matter 
fully?" 

"Perhaps  not  fully,  but  enough  to  satisfy  my 
self  that  it  is  the  best  I  can  do.  I  want  to  know 
the  law,  whether  I  practice  or  not." 

"But  unless  you  intend  to  practice  law,  to 
make  it  your  lifework,  what  is  the  use  of  spend 
ing  three  years  in  studying?" 

"Whatever  one  does,  three  years'  study  of  any 
such  profession  as  law  or  medicine  cannot  hurt 
one." 

"That  is  not  always  the  case.  One  fellow  who 
studied  law  with  me  became  a  minister  shortly 
before  he  was  to  be  admitted  to  the  bar,  and  not 
only  has  made  a  fifth-rate  minister  even  in  the 
country,  but  persists  in  advising  his  parishion 
ers  in  their  legal  matters  and  in  getting  them  into 
all  manner  of  complications,  which  the  practicing 
lawyers  are  obliged  to  unravel.  And  the  converse 
of  it  is  equally  true.  A  minister  who  becomes  a 
lawyer  is  equally  impractical,  and  equally  dan 
gerous  to  the  community." 

"But  you  will  admit  that  a  knowledge  of  the 
law  is  as  a  general  thing  a  benefit  to  a  man,"  in 
sisted  Sam. 

"  I  don't  admit  that.  I  don't  believe  that  is  the 
case.  I  believe  that  a  good  knowledge  of  the  law 
can  only  be  acquired  and  retained  by  a  practicing 
lawyer.  That  an  amateur  at  law  is  as  dangerous 


120  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

to  the  community  as  a  self-cocking  revolver  in 
the  hands  of  children,  or  a  red-eyed  bulldog 
among  sheep." 

"But  do  you  not  think,  Squire,  that  a  general 
knowledge  of  medicine  and  surgery  is  a  good 
thing?" 

"A  good  analogy  and  a  first-rate  example  of 
my  position  in  regard  to  the  law.  A  general 
knowledge  of  medicine  and  surgery  would  be  a 
good  thing  if  it  taught  those  possessing  it  to  be 
ware  of  practicing  medicine  or  surgery,  but  when, 
as  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  it  induces  them  to  dis 
pense  with  the  services  of  a  regular  practitioner 
and  to  perform  amateur  work,  it  is  more  danger 
ous  than  the  amateur  lawyer,  more  fatal  than  the 
revolver  or  the  bulldog." 

"But  surely,  Squire,  you  will  admit  that  in  the 
case  of  an  emergency  a  knowledge  of  medicine  or 
surgery  might  be  of  value?" 

"I  can  imagine  a  case  of  the  kind,  but  an 
emergency  either  in  law  or  medicine  that  hap 
pens  within  reach  of  a  regular  physician  or  prac 
ticing  attorney  is  never  an  emergency,  but  if 
treated  as  such  is  a  crime.  No,  my  boy,  all  this 
talk  about  laymen  knowing  as  much  law  as  a 
lawyer,  and  natural  doctors  or  old  women  nurses 
knowing  as  much  as  a  doctor,  has  paid  a  fearful 
toll  in  property  and  life." 

Sam  looked  dazed.    "  I  am  a  great  deal  sur- 


POLLY  121 

prised  at  what  you  say,  Mr.  Branch,  for  I  had 
always  heard  the  contrary,"  he  said  slowly. 

"Don't  mistake  me;  a  knowledge  of  the  his 
tory  of  law  or  medicine,  religion  or  science,  is  a 
good  thing,  —  a  great  thing,  inasmuch  as  it  gives 
one  an  idea  of  the  immensity,  of  the  grandeur  of 
the  subject.  To  that  I  have  no  objection,  but  the 
study  of  the  practical  workings  of  any  science  for 
the  use  of  amateurs  is  sacrilege." 

"Well,  Mr.  Branch,"  said  Sam,  after  a  long 
pause,  "I  don't  quite  know  what  to  say.  I  have 
always  thought  of  a  profession,  have  thought 
them  over  and  preferred  law.  I  was  a  good  de 
bater  in  college,  and  liked  to  work  on  the  sub 
jects.  I  made  a  specialty  of  history  and  political 
economy,  and  took  a  course  in  Roman  Law.  It 
may  be  that  I  should  not  like  it  as  well  as  I  think 
now,  but  if  you  should  be  willing  to  let  me  study 
with  you,  I  can  promise  you  that  I  will  not  shirk 
either  in  study  or  work  about  the  office." 

"Oh,  as  for  that,  Sam,  you  can  come  in  and 
try  it,  but  I  promise  you  it  will  not  be  play.  While 
I  have  no  right  to  inquire  how  you  pass  your 
time  out  of  office  hours,  I  shall  assume  the  right 
to  object  to  anything  that  is  in  anyway  unworthy 
of  my  profession  and  yours;  --but  I  have  no 
fear  of  that,"  he  said  with  a  smile. 

'You  need  have  no  fear  of  anything  of  that 
kind,  but, Mr.  Branch,!  have  always  been  used  to 


A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

an  outdoor  life  and  a  great  deal  of  exercise.  With 
out  it  I  do  not  believe  I  could  do  very  good  or 
sustained  work.  I  shall  have  to  run,  to  row,  and 
to  take  long  walks,  or  to  get  exercise  in  some  way, 
and  I  should  n't  wish  you  to  think  it  wasting 
time." 

"I  shall  be  the  last  one  to  find  fault  with  that, 
unless  your  usual  exercise  is  in  throwing  bullies 
across  the  street,"  said  the  old  Squire  with  a 
laugh. 

"Well,  I  shall  not  pick  any  quarrels  with  any 
one,  but  I  don't  like  to  be  butted  off  the  side 
walk." 

"I  guess  there  will  be  few  likely  to  try  that 
after  the  evidence  in  the  case  this  morning." 

"I  shall  probably  have  to  go  to  New  York  to 
settle  a  few  matters,  Mr.  Branch,"  said  Sam 
after  a  while.  "I  have  a  few  things  there  to  dis 
pose  of  and  to  pack  up  and  a  few  people  to  say 
good-by  to;  I  suppose  that  will  make  no  differ 
ence?" 

"I  guess  I  can  get  along  for  a  few  days  all  right," 
said  the  old  Squire  dryly. 

"Oh!  I  did  n't  mean  that,"  said  Sam  hastily, 
in  some  confusion,  when  the  Squire's  hearty 
laugh  reassured  him. 

Just  then  the  church  clock  struck  nine,  and 
then  rang  clearly  and  loudly  for  a  few  minutes, 
dying  away  in  a  staccato-like  decrescendo. 


POLLY  123 

"What  is  that  for?"  asked  Sam,  wondering. 

"One  of  the  many  links  that  connect  country 
towns  with  the  past,  --  the  curfew.  Time  little 
children  and  suspicious  characters  were  in  bed." 

"One  of  the  many?  —  What  are  some  others?  " 
asked  Sam. 

"Local  prejudice,  narrow-mindedness,  intoler 
ance,  tobacco-chewing,  and  leather  boots,"  said 
the  Squire.  :'You  will  find  it  out  some  day." 

Sam  laughed  and  rose.  "Good-night,  Mr. 
Branch,  and  thank  you,"  he  said,  extending  his 
hand.  "I  shall  be  back  within  a  week." 

"Good-night,  Sam,"  said  the  Squire,  giving 
him  a  strong  handclasp. 

Then  he  stood  until  the  young  man's  form  dis 
appeared  in  the  shadows  beyond  the  still  light. 

"A  good  boy,  a  clean  boy,  I  believe.  Well,  I 
wonder  if  he  can  do  it.  It  took  me  years,  and  I 
was  a  country  boy.  Well,  it  means  a  long  fight, 
a  long  fight,"  he  muttered,  and  turning,  went 
slowly  into  the  house. 

Outside  the  night  birds  were  calling,  and  the 
bats  flitted  in  abrupt  zigzags  over  the  little 
drowsy  garden,  and  in  the  tiny  white  chamber  a 
little  girl  lay  sleeping. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN    TOWN 

THE  one  o'clock  train  from  Boston  to  New 
York  carried  Sam  and  his  unpretentious 
grip.  He  had  paid  Alvy  his  bill,  engaged  his 
room  for  an  indefinite  time,  taken  a  hasty  break 
fast  while  the  early  loungers  were  in  the  bar 
room,  and  had  started  to  walk  to  the  station,  but 
was  ordered  to  ride  by  Mad,  who  hospitably 
pulled  up  his  hack  horses  and  bade  him  come  up 
on  the  box,  and  had  listened  to  his  amusing  stor 
ies  of  the  excellence  of  the  particular  horses  that 
drew  that  particular  hack,  and  of  the  wind-bro 
ken,  foundered,  saddle-galled,  spavined,  splinted, 
clingfasted,  ringboned,  and  generally  useless  con 
dition  of  all  of  the  Major's  and  Alvy's  horses. 

While  Mad  was  talking  thus,  Brown,  driving 
the  Major's  hack,  passed  him  at  a  whirlwind  pace 
only  to  find  Alvy's  pair  of  grays  standing  by  the 
"Ladies'  Entrance"  of  the  station,  while  the 
driver  helped  several  passengers  to  alight,  to  the 
unbounded  disgust  of  Mad  and  Brown.  Although 
it  was  just  before  the  arrival  of  the  early  down- 
train  to  Boston,  the  station  was  a  busy  place. 
Several  elderly  and  middle-aged  gentlemen  in 


IN  TOWN  125 

Panama  hats  were  arriving  in  private  carriages, 
some  were  taking  a  cup  of  coffee  or  some  more 
solid  refection  in  the  spacious  depot  restaurant. 
Our  friends  Mr.  Billowell,  Mr.  Timson,  the  Sen 
ator,  Deputy  Sheriff  Wadlin,  now  metamor 
phosed  into  the  local  expressman,  were  talking 
earnestly  with  old  Caleb  Terrill,  the  head  of  the 
wool  firm  of  Caleb  Terrill  &  Sons,  whose  white 
marble  lamb  couchant  in  front  of  their  large  ware 
house  on  lower  Water  Street  was  a  landmark,  and 
the  hideous  odors  of  whose  wool-pulling  estab 
lishment  on  Hide  Lane  were  distinctly  audible  for 
a  great  distance. 

At  a  corner  of  the  large  dining-room  the  pro 
prietor  served  beer  and  mixed  drinks,  and  several 
gentleman  were  hoisting  in  a  variety  of  the  latter 
as  a  necessary  preliminary  to  the  morning  game 
of  whist  in  the  smoker.  Suddenly  a  hoarse  gen 
tleman  in  overalls  thrust  his  head  in  at  the  door 
and  bellowed,  "Here  they  come!"  At  once  eggs 
and  breakfast  bacon  were  left  uneaten,  coffee  and 
cocktails  gulped  in  haste,  and  as  one  man  all 
flocked  to  the  townward  side  of  the  station  and 
gazed  down  the  street,  where  turning  the  corner 
at  the  far  end  came  two  long,  peculiar  species  of 
beach  wagon,  each  drawn  by  six  horses,  and 
loaded  with  passengers.  Of  the  foremost  wagon 
the  leading  horses  were  galloping,  the  other  four 
trotting  sharply,  while  the  six  horses  of  the  rear 


126  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

wagon,  urged  by  the  yells  of  the  driver  and  sharp 
cracks  of  the  long  whip,  broke  into  a  fierce  run, 
coming  up  on  the  left  of  the  other  team.  The 
driver  of  that  team,  loosening  the  brake  and  pick 
ing  his  horses  up,  leaned  forward  and  cracked  his 
whip  over  the  leaders,  letting  out  a  sharp  yell  of 
encouragement.  As  one  horse  the  six  plunged 
into  their  collars. 

The  crowd  at  the  station  broke  out  in  loud 
shouts  of  partisanship.   "Hen  has  him  this  trip." 
-"No!  Wood's  got  him  trimmed."  — "Hi!  look 
at  them  gray  leaders  jump."       "Gray  leaders, 
huh!  the  buckskins  are  the  boys  for  me!" 
''Thunder!  they  are  going  to  lock  wheels!" 
"How  is  that  for  driving!"       "Now,  whatcher 
gotter  say?" 

Up  came  the  teams  on  the  run,  wheels  rattling, 
harness  creaking,  hoofs  ringing  on  the  hard  road, 
whips  cracking  like  pistols,  drivers  and  passen 
gers  yelling  at  the  top  of  their  lungs,  waving  hats, 
coats,  umbrellas,  and  grips,  straight  up  the  in 
cline  to  the  station.  For  a  moment  it  looked  as  if 
the  leading  team  would  crash  into  the  station, 
but  they  were  swung  half-around  in  a  masterly 
fashion  and  pulled  up  so  short  that  the  passen 
gers,  some  standing  in  the  covered  barges,  were 
rushed  headlong  down  the  narrow  aisle  between 
the  seats  and  dashed  into  violent  collision  with 
each  other,  while  an  enthusiastic  passenger  on 


HOW   IS    THAT    FOR    DRIVING  ? 


IN  TOWN  127 

the  driver's  seat  violently  threw  a  large  lunch- 
basket,  half-filled  with  plates,  cups,  saucers,  and 
cutlery,  nearly  to  the  off-leader's  head,  and  only 
saved  himself  from  following  it  by  a  death  grip 
of  both  chubby  arms  and  legs  on  the  brake  bar. 

The  passengers  then  crawled  out,  regained  and 
smoothed  their  dented  hats,  and  were  counted 
by  the  bystanders,  and  many  small  sums  of 
money  changed  hands  when  it  transpired  that 
our  old  friend  the  Major,  with  sixty-five  passen 
gers  in  the  "Flying  Trapeze,"  which  was  the 
peculiar  name  of  his  vehicle,  had  beaten  the  liti 
gious  Chris,  with  but  fifty-seven  in  the  "Wessa- 
cumcum";  and  the  drivers  were  pressed  to  take 
a  large  amount  of  stimulant  at  the  bar,  while 
waiting  stablemen  unchecked  the  horses,  washed 
their  mouths,  and  gave  them  each  a  few  gulps  of 
water. 

Sam  examined  the  immense  and  gaudily 
painted  and  paneled  creations,  marked  the  heav 
ing,  sweating,  and  crusted  sides  of  the  horses,  and 
learned  that  during  the  months  of  July  and  Aug 
ust  these  horse-killing  machines  made  each  day 
the  round  trip  of  twenty  miles  to  the  beach  and 
back.  He  climbed  into  the  "Flying  Trapeze," 
the  more  gaudy  of  the  two,  and,  after  examining 
the  narrow,  slippery  seats,  understood  only  too 
well  the  appropriateness  of  the  apparently  incon 
gruous  name. 


128  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Just  then  the  train  whistled  in  and  he  hurried 
to  the  track  in  time  to  hear  the  announcement, 
;'This  train  stops  here  ten  minutes  for  refresh 
ments." 

"Well,"  said  Sam  to  a  bystander,  "everyone 
seems  to  take  his  time  here." 

"  Jesso;  jesso;  I  callate,  young  man,  thet  the' 
ain't  no  sense  in  hurryin'  threw  aour  lettle  taoun ! 
People  seemter  kinder  hanker  arter  hurryin'  in 
cities  'n  bigger  places  'n  ter  take  it  easy  like  here. 
Jelluk  Alvy.  Kneau  Alvy,  don't  ye?  Well,  Alvy's 
motter  is  'Hoi'  on,  hoi'  on,  the'  ain't  no  hurry!' 
'N  Alvy's  right,  say  I." 

"Yes,  I  know  Alvy,  and  I  guess  he  gets  along 
about  as  comfortably  as  any  one  could,  more  so 
than  Chris." 

"  Sho,  yes.  Chris  there.  Why  Chris  is  a  rushin', 
'n  a  rampin',  'n  a  tarin'  raoun  julluk  one  of  these 
'ere  crazy  bugs,  'n  don't  git  nowhars.  Jever  hear 
how  Chris  'n,  —  wha'  zat  ye  say,  ride  daoun 
taoun?  Well,  I  guess,"  and  Sam's  new  acquaint 
ance,  with  a  curt  nod,  climbed  aboard  an  old  end- 
spring  buggy  manned  by  a  bucolic  gentleman 
with  a  circle  of  reddish  whiskers  under  his  chin, 
while  Sam  lounged  into  the  car,  hunted  up  a  com 
fortable  seat,  and,  looking  out  of  the  window, 
watched  the  conductor  come  out  of  the  restau 
rant  in  deep  conversation  with  J.  Wadlin,saw  the 
various  magnates  board  the  train,  saw  the  con- 


IN  TOWN  129 

ductor  give  a  signal,  and  by  slow  jerks  the  train 
pulled  out. 

At  six  o'clock  that  afternoon  Sam  left  the 
Grand  Central  Station  and  boarded  an  uptown 
car.  At  East  -  -  th  street  he  alighted,  walked 
rapidly  down  the  street  for  about  fifty  yards,  ran 
up  a  flight  of  stone  steps,  and  pressed  a  button. 
The  door  flew  open. 

"Hullo,  Billy,"  said  Sam,  addressing  a  short 
middle-aged  man  in  buttons;  "room  ready?" 

''Yes, sir, Mr.  Randolph, all  aired  and  dusted." 

Sam  rapidly  ran  up  two  flights  of  stairs,  and 
with  a  key  opened  a  door  leading  to  a  suite  of 
sitting-room,  bedroom,  and  bath.  On  the  famil 
iar  walls  were  a  few  pictures,  a  set  of  boxing- 
gloves,  crossed  broadswords,  a  mask,  foils,  a 
deer's  head,  across  the  antlers  a  crop,  two  fishing- 
rods  in  green  cases,  a  Mexican  bridle  of  braided 
white  horsehair.  In  one  corner  was  a  fine  rifle, 
a  shot-gun,  and  a  pair  of  heavy  Western  revolvers. 

Over  the  mantel  was  a  cabinet  photograph  of 
an  exceedingly  pretty  girl  in  trim  walking-suit, 
and  on  a  desk  another  of  the  same  girl  in  cool 
white.  The  room  was  furnished  with  large,  com 
fortable  lounging-chairs,  a  reading- table  with  a 
drop  light.  One  side  of  the  room  was  walled  in  by 
shelves  filled  with  books,  the  other  partly  occu 
pied  by  exercising-machines,two  dumb-bells,  and 
a  pair  of  Indian  clubs. 


130  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Sam  passed  to  the  bathroom,  turned  the  taps, 
and,  returning  slowly,  undressed. 

A  knock  at  the  door  sounded  and  Billy's  voice 
said,  "A  tilligraft,  sor." 

Sam  opened  the  door  and  took  a  yellow  envel 
ope,  opened  it  and  read: 

Meet  you  at  the  Waldorf  to-morrow  at  lunch, 
sharp  one.  TOM. 

Sam  smiled  rather  grimly.  "The  Waldorf! 
Probably  my  last  lunch  there.  Tom  is  an  extrav 
agant  devil." 

Then  he  went  to  the  bathroom,  closed  the  door, 
and  a  mighty  sound  of  blowing  and  splashing  arose. 

After  a  while  he  came  out  in  undershirt  and 
running-drawers,  unlocked  his  desk,  and  began 
looking  over  a  heap  of  letters  which  he  had  picked 
up  from  the  floor  under  the  mail  slot.  Most  of 
them  were  thrown  into  the  waste-basket  after  a 
hurried  reading,  but  a  few  were  carefully  an 
swered.  Then  he  began  examining  and  sorting 
out  papers  of  all  sorts.  Some  were  torn  up  and 
thrown  into  the  grate  until  there  was  enough  to 
fill  it,  and  a  few,  a  very  few,  were  folded,  dock 
eted,  put  in  a  bundle,  and  secured  with  an  elastic 
band.  He  worked  steadily  for  over  an  hour,  and 
then,  shivering  slightly  and  pulling  on  a  bath 
robe,  set  fire  to  the  pile. 


IN  TOWN  131 

Finally  he  rose,  yawned,  stretched,  and  going 
to  the  bathroom  washed  his  hands,  and  began 
slowly  to  put  on  his  summer  knockabout  suit. 
Suddenly  he  paused  as  if  a  second  thought  struck 
him,  smiled,  and  said  to  himself,  "Might  as  well 
for  old  acquaintance'  sake,  if  I  never  do  it  again." 
And  divesting  himself  of  his  street  clothes,  he 
threw  them  on  the  bed,  went  to  the  press,  and 
took  down  a  suit  of  evening-clothes,  dragged  a 
stainless  shirt  and  white  vest  from  a  drawer,  and 
looked  carefully  to  their  pressing.  When  he  had 
satisfied  himself  on  these  points,  he  arrayed  him 
self  with  the  utmost  care,  spent  fifteen  minutes 
in  achieving  a  flawless  tie,  then  threw  on  a  light 
overcoat  and  a  lustreless  and  perfectly  correct 
silk  hat,  switched  off  the  light,  and  went  out. 

"Going  to  dinner,  Billy,"  he  said  to  the  stolid 
man. 

"Aw  reet,  sor,"  replied  Billy. 

Then  he  ran  down  the  steps,  posted  his  letters 
at  a  corner,  and  calling  a  cab,  stepped  in.  "The 
Riverton  Club,"  he  said  to  the  driver,  and  lighted 
a  cigarette  and  leaned  forward,  looking  with  in 
terest  at  the  familiar  streets,  carriages  drawn  by 
high-stepping  horses,  —  for  this  was  in  the  days 
when  Fifth  Avenue  was  not  a  motor  but  a  horse 
show,  —  cabs,  coupes,  landaus,  every  variety  of 
conveyance,  every  color  and  style  of  horse,  - 
bay,  buck,  black,  chestnut,  sorrel,  white,  gray, 


132  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

calico,  long-tailed,  dock-tailed,  bang-tailed,  - 
every  possible  combination  of  leather,  silver, 
gold,  brass,  and  jingling  pendants.  From  the 
cross-streets  of  the  great  avenue  clanged  the 
gongs  of  the  brightly  lighted  cars,  while  even  the 
jingle  of  the  old-fashioned  single  line  of  horse- 
cars  and  the  rattle  of  the  old  "Fifth  Avenue 
Stage  Line"  busses  added  a  bright  tone  to  the 
charm. 

One  could  scarcely  believe  that  New  York  was 
"deserted."  The  restaurants  were  filled,  and 
crowds  of  gayly  dressed  people  were  on  their  way 
to  summer  theatres  and  the  parks,  talking  ani 
matedly.  All  was  light  and  warmth  and  life  and 
brightness. 

The  cab  threaded  its  way  in  and  out  of  the  pass 
ing  teams,  now  drawing  in  close  to  the  curb,  now 
wheeling  well  towards  the  middle  of  the  street 
and  circling  by  and  around  some  slower  ve 
hicle,  and  now  holding  back  to  avoid  colliding 
with  some  polished  drag  in  front.  Finally,  it  drew 
up  before  a  grim  solid  building  with  large  bay 
windows  of  plate  glass,  in  which  a  few  old  and 
middle-aged  men  lounged  in  deep  leather  chairs. 
Sam  looked  them  over  as  the  cabby  opened  the 
door.  A  very,  the  man  with  a  grievance;  Anthony, 
who  talked  nothing  but  the  future  of  the  colored 
race;  old  Stephens,  notorious  for  his  racy  stories 
and  called  by  the  papers  a  famous  raconteur;  a 


IN  TOWN  133 

stranger  who  did  n't  promise  anything;  and  old 
Perry  Symonds,  an  authority  on  the  battle  of 
Manassas  Junction  and  of  nothing  else  under  the 
sun. 

Whew !  that  was  too  much  of  a  dose,  and  Sam 
leaned  back  and  told  the  cabby  to  drive  to  Sher 
ry's.  Sam  found  that  famous  restaurant  ablaze 
with  light  and  nearly  every  table  taken.  By  good 
luck  he  succeeded  in  getting  a  small  table  in  the 
corner,  where  he  could  command  a  view  of  the 
dining-room.  Sam  gave  his  order  to  the  trim 
waiter  with  pencil  and  pad,  and  while  waiting  for 
his  dinner  looked  sharply  and  with  great  interest 
at  the  diners.  Near  him  were  a  quartette  of 
Frenchmen,  who  shrugged  high  shoulders  and 
waved  white  and  jeweled  hands  as  they  discussed 
matters  of  common  interest.  Just  beyond  them 
were  two  men  whose  names  as  politicians  were 
famous  or  infamous  throughout  the  country,  ac 
cording  to  the  political  complexion  of  those  who 
spoke  of  them,  and  whose  pictures  and  carica 
tures  had  for  years  adorned  news  sheets.  A  flock 
of  vaudeville  soubrettes  and  their  callow  escorts, 
dining  between  turns,  made  a  lively  group  just 
beyond,  while  a  florid  Episcopal  rector,  f rocked 
to  the  throat,  with  his  curate,  pale,  thin,  anaemic, 
and  interesting,  sat  just  opposite  a  table  at  which 
sat  a  burly  man  with  high  cheekbones,  a  promin 
ent  nose,  a  protruding  jaw,  and  bushy  eyebrows, 


134  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

a  face  and  a  figure  known  to  financiers  in  four 
countries. 

Three  overdressed  and  over  jeweled  women, 
with  arched  noses  and  thick  red  lips,  partly 
atoned  for  by  beautiful  eyelashes  and  magnificent 
hair,  drank  champagne  in  a  corner,  while  a  man 
with  an  immense  head  of  curly  hair  and  vast  tan 
gle  of  beard  devoured  his  food  in  an  animal-like 
way  that  betokened  foreign  manners  and  very 
bad  ones  at  that.  There  was  also  a  large  propor 
tion  of  beautifully  but  quietly  dressed  women 
and  handsome  men,  unquestionably  of  the  higher- 
class  Americans  of  whom  Sam  was  proud. 

Sam  looked  eagerly  in  every  direction,  and 
while  he  recognized  many  faces  and  knew  a  few 
names,  he  did  not  see  any  acquaintance  with 
whom  he  could  share  his  dinner,  and  for  a  few 
moments  he  felt  very  much  alone.  At  all  events, 
he  thought,  this  is  better  than  those  old  club  buz 
zards,  who  bit  and  snapped  and  tore  reputations 
to  shreds  and  mouthed  the  reeking  fragments 
with  hyena-like  enjoyment.  Here  in  this  crowded 
restaurant  there  was  light  and  life  and  enjoy 
ment,  and  he  felt  like  one  returned  from  a  long 
absence  to  his  own  again. 

Then  the  waiter  brought  his  soup,  and  he  fell 
to  with  the  enjoyment  of  long  abstinence.  It  was 
a  long,  satisfying  meal,  and  as  it  ended  he  lighted 
a  cigarette,  paid  his  check  with  a  handsome  tip  to 


IN  TOWN  135 

the  waiter,  and  was  receiving  from  that  deferen 
tial  person  his  hat  and  coat,  when  the  head  waiter 
came  up  and  asked  if  he  were  Mr.  Randolph.  On 
being  assured  of  that  fact  the  waiter  said  a  lady 
wished  to  see  him. 

"A  lady!"  said  Sam  to  himself;  "who  can 
know  me  here  at  this  season?" 

However,  he  followed  his  guide  to  a  corner  of 
the  room  where,  partly  screened  behind  a  huge 
tubbed  rubber  plant,  was  a  table  at  which  sat 
three  persons,  an  elderly  lady  in  luminous  gray, 
a  white-haired,  white-moustached  old  gentleman 
in  evening  clothes,  and  a  beautiful  girl  in  pink, 
with  a  gracefully  wide  hat  bearing  a  jungle  of 
white  ostrich  plumes. 

Sam's  heart  gave  a  great  leap,  for  it  was  the 
girl  whose  pictures  he  had  only  an  hour  before 
packed  so  carefully  among  the  few  things  he  was 
to  take  away  with  him.  She  gave  Sam  her  slim 
hand,  while  a  smile  of  welcome  curved  her  lips 
and  a  light  of  pleasure  shone  in  her  dark  eyes. 
"Such  a  pleasure,  Sam  —  Mr.  Randolph  —  I 
had  no  idea  you  were  in  town.  Uncle  had  to 
come  to  town  on  some  business,  something  that 
required  Aunt  Mary's  signature,  and  so  I  came, 
too,  and  we  thought  we  would  dine  here  just  to 
see  how  it  would  seem.  And  oh!  it's  just  heav 
enly.  Even  the  smell  of  the  docks  and  the  streets 
seemed  almost  too  good  to  be  true." 


136  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Sam  greeted  her  uncle  and  aunt  with  much 
deference,  and  at  their  invitation  took  a  seat  at 
their  table,  giving  his  hat  and  coat  to  the  waiter. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  Ethel,  "confess;  what  good 
deed,  or  what  mischief,  more  than  likely,  brought 
you  to  New  York  in  the  summer?" 

"Why,  it  certainly  was  not  mischief,  but  if  you 
can  believe  it  a  matter  of  business.  I  know  it  is 
quite  a  bit  to  ask  of  you,  when  you  know  my  gen 
eral  incapacity  for  anything  of  the  kind." 

"Why,  Mr.  Randolph,"  said  Ethel,  "I  really 
believe  it,  although  it  does  seem  odd.  Uncle 
John,"  she  said,  turning  to  the  old  gentleman, 
"Sam  --  Mr.  Randolph  —  is  modest  enough  to 
express  some  doubts  of  my  believing  he  is  in  New 
York  on  business.  What  do  you  think  of  that? 
Do  not  this  costume,  and  his  presence  at  Sherry's 
look  businesslike?  Now,  if  we  had  met  him  on 
Wall  Street,  or  coming  out  of  a  bank  or  lawyer's 
office,  we  would  naturally  suppose  he  was  there 
on  pleasure  solely,  but  here,  why,  of  course  it 
must  have  been  business." 

"Whatever  it  was,  it  has  paid,  since  I  have 
met  you,"  said  Sam  in  a  low  tone. 

"Really,  you  have  convinced  me  that  you  are 
no  business  man  by  that  speech,"  she  laughed. 
"Uncle,  won't  you  please  answer  my  question?" 

"If  you  will  repeat  it,  I'll  try  to,"  replied  the 
white-moustached  old  gentleman.  "My  niece 


IN  TOWN  137 

has  a  way,  Mr.  Randolph,  of  asking  a  perfectly 
plain  question,  and  then  rattling  along  so  far  that 
when  she  decides  to  give  you  a  chance  to  answer 
it,  which  is  only  when  she  is  completely  out  of 
breath  and  ideas,  you  have  entirely  forgotten  it, 
and  so  has  she.  Now,  Ethel,  repeat  the  ques 
tion." 

"Well,  really,  Uncle  John,  I  —  I — you  see 
it  was  something  about,  —  well,  never  mind,  it 
was  very  unimportant,"  stammered  the  young 
girl  in  pretty  confusion.  "But  what  brought  you 
to  New  York,  Mr.  Randolph?" 

"Really,  Ethel,"  said  Sam,  "it  was  business 
wholly  that  brought  me,  and  not  very  pleasant 
business.  I  came  here  to  sell  my  furniture,  pack 
my  trunks,  pay  my  bills,  resign  from  my  clubs, 
and  leave  New  York." 

"Leave  New  York!  why,  Sam  Randolph,  have 
you  gone  crazy?  You  don't  mean  for  good, 
surely?  " 

"I  can't  say  surely,  but  I  am  afraid  so,"  said 
Sam  rather  despondently. 

He  was  beginning  to  realize  how  much  he  was 
giving  up,  as  he  looked  at  this  young  girl  and  felt 
the  influence  of  the  music,  the  lights,  the  odors, 
and  the  indescribable  something  that  he  had 
missed  in  the  last  few  weeks. 

"  What  can  be  the  reason?  I  cannot  understand 
it  at  all,"  said  the  young  girl. 


138  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"The  reason  is  very  simple.  My  father's  es 
tate  was  practically  wiped  out  by  bad  invest 
ments,  and  when  all  his  debts  were  paid  there  was 
nothing  left,  and  I  have  got  to  go  to  work." 

"How  is  that,  Mr.  Randolph?"  said  the  man 
with  the  white  moustache.  "I  thought  your  fa 
ther  was  well  off.  Not  a  rich  man  as  we  call  it 
here,  but  well  fixed." 

"I  thought  so,  too,"  said  Sam,  smiling  a  little 
ruefully.  "It  is  too  long  a  story  to  tell  now,  but 
beyond  just  enough  for  me  to  live  in  the  country 
for  two  or  three  years,  he  left  nothing.  And  so  I 
am  going  to  study  law  in  an  office  in  the  coun- 
try." 

"But  why  don't  you  take  a  course  in  a  law 
school?"  asked  her  uncle.  'You  know  the  best 
preparation  is  none  too  good  in  law  or  medicine. 
The  Harvard  Law  School  has  a  great  reputation 
and  the  Columbia  also.  And  you  would  keep  in 
better  touch  with  your  New  York  friends." 

"In  the  first  place,  I  can't  afford  it,  and  in  the 
second,  in  the  office  I  am  to  enter  I  shall  have  a 
practical,  working  knowledge  by  the  time  I  am 
through,  and  that  without  expense,  and  expense 
is  the  one  thing  I  must  consider." 

:'Yes,  I  know,"  insisted  her  uncle;  "but  who 
ever  heard  of  a  great  lawyer  coming  from  a  coun 
try  office?" 

"A  lot  of  them  have,  but  I  will  admit  that  a 


IN  TOWN  139 

law  school  preparation  is  a  great  thing,  a  great 
thing.  But  I  believe  a  man  can  become  a  good 
lawyer  with  an  office  preparation,  and  access  to 
a  good  library,"  said  Sam.  ''Why,  the  Squire 
told  me  only  yesterday  that  Langdell,  the  old 
head  of  the  Harvard  Law  School,  got  his  educa 
tion  in  part  in  the  office  of  Judge  Stickney  in 
Elmtown,  where  I  am  to  locate." 

"The  Squire,"  laughed  the  young  girl;  "only 
think,  Auntie,  what  a  delightfully  old-fashioned 
title.  Who  is  the  Squire,  Sam?" 

"His  name  is  Ira  Branch,  and  he  is  about  the 
finest  specimen  of  a  strong  country  gentleman  I 
have  ever  seen,"  replied  Sam.  "I  wish  you  could 
see  him." 

Suddenly  her  uncle  put  down  his  coffee  cup  so 
abruptly  that  he  spilled  half  the  contents  on  the 
white  tablecloth. 

"Ira  Branch,  that  rascally  pettifogger!  Do 
you  mean  to  say,  young  man,  that  you  are  a 
friend  of  his?"  he  sputtered. 

Sam  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  The  old 
gentleman's  face  had  become  almost  purple  and 
his  white  moustache  bristled  with  rage. 

"Ira  Branch  a  rascally  pettifogger,  sir?  I 
guess  you  don't  know  the  Ira  Branch  I  mean, 
sir,"  said  Sam  in  a  curiously  hard  voice. 

"The  very  man,  sir,  Ira  Branch  of  Elmtown. 
I  know  him,  sir.  Ha!  I  know  him  very  well,  sir, 


140  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

and  I  consider  him  an  impertinent,  rascally  petti 
fogger,"  and  the  choleric  old  gentleman  brought 
his  fist  down  with  such  force  that  the  water  in 
the  carafe  and  the  glasses  jumped  and  the  silver 
rattled. 

Sam's  eyes  narrowed  and  his  face  was  white. 
Yet  he  spoke  in  a  quiet  voice. 

"Mr.  Van  Cleves,  Ira  Branch  was  my  mother's 
friend,  my  father's  friend,  and  mine,  and  I  am 
not  the  man  to  hear  quietly  any  one  call  him  a 
rascal  or  speak  ill  of  him.  I  know  him,  sir.  You 
do  not." 

"No,  sir,  I  don't,  and  I  don't  want  to,  or  any 
one  of  his  friends  either,"  said  the  old  gentleman 
in  a  fury. 

Sam  rose,  quiet  and  pale,  but  completely  mas 
ter  of  himself. 

'Then  it  only  remains  for  me  to  bid  the  ladies 
good-evening  and  to  regret  having  caused  them 
this  annoyance.  Good-night,  Mrs.  Van  Cleves," 
he  said,  bowing  low  to  that  somewhat  agitated 
lady;  "good -night,  Ethel,"  he  said,  giving  his 
hand  to  the  young  girl,  who,  pathetically  grieved 
and  disappointed,  said  nothing  but  looked  from 
him  to  her  uncle  in  a  most  imploring  manner. 

Then,  turning,  Sam  walked  out  of  the  dining- 
room  without  a  backward  glance,  but  with  a 
glow  of  anger  in  his  heart  and  a  blaze  in  his  eyes 
that  might  have  scorched  a  less  stern,  stiff, 


IN  TOWN  141 

pompous,  and  conceited  man  than  the  white- 
moustached  old  gentleman. 

"An  empty-headed,  brainless,  coxcombical, 
addle-pated  old  ass,"  muttered  Sam,  as  he  paused 
to  light  a  cigarette. 

"That  young  man  will  come  to  no  good," 
fumed  her  uncle. 

But  the  young  girl  with  difficulty  restrained  her 
tears  until  they  entered  their  carriage,  when  she 
retired  to  a  corner  and  cried  until  her  handker 
chief  was  limp  and  her  eyes  red. 

For  a  couple  of  hours  more  Sam  went  from 
place  to  place,  but  the  joy  of  New  York  had  de 
parted.  The  streets  seemed  hot,  insufferably  hot, 
the  crowds  pushed  and  jostled  and  elbowed  - 
the  clang  of  the  cars  was  deafening,  the  lights 
blinding. 

He  entered  a  cheap  theatre.  A  woman  in 
tights,  with  impossible  blonde  hair  and  over- 
penciled  eyelids,  was  singing  a  dreary  ballad  in 
a  harsh  metallic  voice.  Next  two  knockabout 
artists  did  some  uninteresting  buck  and  wing 
dances,  and  a  lightning  artist  drew  a  winter  scene 
in  a  stated  number  of  seconds.  Then  a  pompous 
man  in  a  huge  moustache  and  an  immense  shirt- 
front  began  to  sing  a  sentimental  ballad  illustrat 
ing  a  series  of  lantern  slides,  and  Sam  fled. 

Finally,  he  went  to  his  room,  pulled  off  his 
clothes,  took  a  turn  at  the  machine,  the  dumb- 


142  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

bells  and  the  clubs,  a  shower  and  a  vigorous  rub- 
down,  then  went  to  bed. 

"A  brainless  ass!  a  pompous,  baboon-faced 
old  windbag.  Ira  Branch  is  worth  a  hundred 
such  men.  And  she  did  n't  have  grit  enough  to 
say  a  word.  H'm,"  -  but  here  his  voice  trailed 
out  in  slumber.  It  had  been  a  hard  day  for  Sam. 

The  next  day  was  a  busy  one  for  him.  He 
spent  the  forenoon  in  packing,  and  burning.  Then 
at  one  o'clock  he  met  his  friend  Tom  at  the  Wal 
dorf,  had  lunch,  and  listened  to  Tom's  loud  re 
proaches.  What  was  the  sense  in  burying  one's 
self  alive  in  a  country  town.  If  he  had  got  to 
work,  why  not  get  a  place  in  some  New  York 
house?  Journalism  or  banking  or  finance  or  pol 
itics?  But  to  become  a  countryman !  Why,  soon 
he  would  be  wearing  cowhide  boots  and  chin- 
whiskers,  and  carrying  a  carpet-bag  like  country 
men  in  Life  and  Judge.  Or  would  be  trying  five- 
cent  cases  in  an  office  over  the  country  store,  like 
Golden  in  Way  Down  East.  It  was  funny  on  the 
stage,  and  it  was  quite  the  thing  for  hysteric  old 
ladies  to  squeeze  out  a  tear  or  two,  and  for  "Old 
Timer"  in  the  Ladies'  Home  Companion  to  grow 
lachrymose  over  the  old  days  in  the  country,  but 
for  Sam  to  do  it  was  something  he,  for  his  part, 
could  n't  understand.  It  was  rank  idiocy. 

Did  he  want  any  money?  No,  he  always  was 
too  damned  independent.  No,  he  would  be 


IN  TOWN  143 

hanged  if  he  would  buy  his  old  furniture  or  help 
him  in  any  way !  He  would  n't  be  guilty  of  any 
such  infernal  conspiracy  as  to  help  him  commit 
social  suicide. 

All  this  and  much  more,  while  Sam,  much 
amused,  ate  heartily  of  a  delicious  lunch  and 
stuck  to  his  point  obstinately,  as  Tom  said,  like 
"an  infernal  old  snapping  turtle." 

In  the  end  Tom  bought  Sam's  furniture,  took 
his  lease  off  his  hands,  on  the  special  understand 
ing  that  Sam  should  keep  one  key  and  promise, 
under  most  hideous  penalties,  to  make  that  his 
home  whenever  he  came  to  New  York.  Sam 
promised  on  his  honor,  and  at  six  o'clock  he  left 
Tom  standing  in  the  Grand  Central  Station  as 
the  train  for  Boston  slowly  drew  out,  and  Sam 
turned  his  back  on  city  life,  as  he  thought,  for 
ever. 

It  was  ten  minutes  of  six  in  the  afternoon  of 
the  next  day  when  the  Boston  Express  stopped 
at  Elmtown  and  Sam  had  a  chance  to  see  the 
evening  end  of  the  beach  drama  as  it  was  played 
during  the  summer  months.  The  barges  were 
backed  up  to  the  curbings,  and  hoarse- voiced 
barkers  proclaimed  the  supreme  excellence  of 
their  respective  conveyances.  "Flying  Trapeze! 
Flying  Trapeze!  The  fastest  and  most  comfort 
able  conveyance  to  the  most  famous  beach  on  the 
Atlantic  Coast.  Newly  built,  padded  seats,  the 


144  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

only  barge  using  the  patent  elliptical  rockaway 
springs,  making  the  entire  conveyance  as  easy  as 
a  cradle.  The  best  team  of  horses  in  Rockaway 
County,  the  safest  driver,  the  very  safest  driver 
in  the  State.  That's  right,  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
step  right  this  way;  only  seventy -five  cents  to 
the  beach.  Baggage  wagon  to  follow.  No  extra 
charge  for  baggage." 

"  Wessacumcum !  Wes-s-s-a-cumcum !  Safest 
and  easiest  barge  in  America,  driven  by  the 
driver  who  gets  there,  and  gets  there  on  time. 
Not  a  new  or  a  stiff-springed  one,  but  mellowed 
down  and  proved.  Five  years  without  an  acci 
dent,  five  years,  gentlemen.  Seventy -five  cents 
for  the  trip.  Step  this  wa-a-ay,  seventy -five 
cents,  gentlemen." 

"  Flying  Trapeze !  Flying  Trapeze !  the  only  — 
Wessacumcum!  the  safest  --  Flying  --  Wessa  - 
step  —  seventy -five  —  right  this  way." 

While  these  gentlemen  were  thus  stridently 
declaiming,  muscular  retainers  were  fairly  col 
laring  passengers  and  rushing  them  into  the 
barges. 

"Is  this  Major  Drake's  barge?"  snapped  an 
elderly  female  with  spectacles  to  a  Blunt  man. 

"Certainly,  madam,  right  here,"  he  answered, 
taking  her  bags  and  piloting  her  skillfully  into 
the  Wessacumcum. 

"Would  n't  ride  in  Major  Drake's  barge  if  he 


IN  TOWN  145 

would  give  me  a  ride  for  nothing,"  sputtered  an 
elderly  man  with  a  red  face  and  spats. 

"Right  you  are,  sir,"  said  a  polite  Drake 
striker;  "Major's  a  rascal;  this  way,  sir.  There 
you  are,  sir,"  helping  him  into  the  Major's  barge. 
"Don't  mention  it;  glad  to  help  you,  sir." 

Occasionally  a  Drake  striker  got  a  passenger's 
baggage,  while  a  Blunt  sympathizer  collared  the 
passenger.  This  caused  much  tugging  and  a  war 
of  words,  in  which  the  passenger  not  infrequently 
took  an  active  part.  To  add  to  this  confusion,  the 
hackmen  were  vaunting  the  two  leading  hotels 
and  wrangling  over  fares,  the  diners  were  scram 
bling  for  the  lunch  counters,  and  the  drivers  of 
private  carriages  were  trying  to  drive  near  the 
station  and  swearing  at  those  in  front  of  them, 
and  a  large  delegation  of  station  loungers  had 
gathered  to  see  the  fun. 

"Shades  of  immortal  Caesar,"  thought  Sam. 
"I  reckon  I  needn't  rust  here  for  want  of  ex 
citement." 

Finally  the  barges  drove  off,  the  hacks  followed, 
and  the  owners  of  private  carriages  entered  their 
conveyances  and  rolled  off  townwards.  Old  Caleb 
Terrill  got  into  a  dignified  sort  of  ark,  drawn  by 
a  large  gray  horse.  Sam,  who  had  been  so  much 
interested  in  the  passenger  warfare  as  entirely  to 
forget  his  baggage,  turned  back  with  his  checks 
and  gave  them  to  an  expressman  in  the  employ 


146  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

of  J.  Wadlin,  who  promised  to  land  them  at 
Alvy's,  and  Sam  was  pleased  at  an  invitation  to 
ride  with  the  deputy  sheriff  himself  in  a  light 
Concord.  He  sprang  in,  and  the  dappled  brown 
started  with  a  jerk  that  nearly  took  Sam's  head 
off. 

Down  the  street  they  tore  in  the  wake  of  sev 
eral  speedy  teams  that  were  trying  to  pass  each 
other.  They  turned  the  corner  into  the  Main 
Street  on  two  wheels  and  settled  down  for  the 
half-mile  to  town.  By  the  time  they  had  reached 
the  Rumscott,  J.  Wadlin  had  passed  three  teams, 
but  could  not  gain  on  Alvy's  flag-tailed  bay  and 
a  gray  pony  driven  by  Mr.  Timson  that  were 
racing  neck  and  neck  the  entire  distance. 

"Whew!"  said  Sam;  "is  this  a  regular  thing, 
Mr.  Sheriff?"  as  they  drew  up  at  Alvy's, with  the 
brown  squatting  like  a  rabbit  and  plowing  the 
dust  with  his  hind  feet. 

"We  always  try  to  mix  a  little  pleasure  with 
our  business,"  said  J.  Wadlin,  laughing. 

"I  should  think  so.  I  have  seen  more  excite 
ment  in  the  few  days  I  have  been  here  than  I  ever 
saw  in  New  York  in  the  same  time.  Good-night, 
Mr.  Sheriff,  and  thank  you,"  and  Sam  turned 
into  the  now  familiar  hotel,  nodding  to  the  loung 
ers  over  whom  he  had  to  climb. 

He  was  thoroughly  amused  and  elated,  his 
step  was  as  springy  as  an  antelope's,  and  he 


IN  TOWN  147 

looked  with  enthusiasm  to  his  future.  True,  he 
had  left  New  York  with  its  delightful  associa 
tions;  true,  he  had  lost  his  wealth,  and  was  de 
pendent  upon  his  own  hands  and  brain;  but  he 
had  no  fear,  for  in  the  pocket  of  his  inner  coat, 
next  his  heart,  he  carried  a  letter  from  the  young 
girl,  a  faintly  scented  missive  which  read :  - 

DEAR  SAM:  —  I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am 
about  what  happened  at  dinner  last  night.  Uncle 
John  was  horrid — horrid,  brutal;  and  unjust  too, 
I  am  sure.  I  think  he  was  a  little  ashamed  of  him 
self  afterwards,  for  he  tried  to  say  something  to 
me,  but  I  would  n't  listen;  and  all  to-day  he  has 
just  been  putting  himself  out  to  be  nice  to  me. 
He  can  be  so  nice  and  kind  if  he  will,  but  he  can 
be  so  disagreeable  too! 

I  am  ashamed  of  myself,  too,  —  because  I 
did  n't  say  a  word, —  not  a  word.  Did  you  think 
I  had  no  spirit  at  all?  I  hope  not;  but  I  was  so 
flustered  by  his  outburst  that  I  could  n't  speak.  I 
don't  believe  one  word  he  said  —  about  Mr. 
Ranch,  I  think  that  was  his  name.  Anyway, 
Auntie  sends  her  love  and  hopes  you  will  not 
mind  what  Uncle  said.  She  says  he  has  been 
awfully  worried  about  stocks.  I  think  it  must 
be  that  Mr.  Ranch  crossed  him  in  business  some 
time  —  and  Uncle  never  forgives. 

Well,  I  am  going  to  Hazel  wood  to-day  to  spend 


148  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Sunday  with  some  friends,  and  the  carriage  is 
waiting.  Why  don't  you  come  down,  too?  I  am 
dying  to  know  what  you  think  of  me. 

Yours  regretfully, 

ETHEL. 

With  that  letter  in  his  pocket,  which  we  may 
be  sure  he  had  answered  fully  to  relieve  her 
mind  as  to  what  he  thought  of  her,  is  it  to  be 
wondered  at  that  Sam  thought  the  world  a  very 
delightful  place  and  his  future  a  thing  to  fight  for 
splendidly? 


CHAPTER  IX 

LEGAL   BEGINNINGS 

THE  next  morning  Sam  was  at  the  Squire's  of 
fice  promptly  at  8.30,  and  announced  him 
self  ready  to  begin.  The  Squire  was  evidently 
glad  to  see  him  again,  and  assigned  him  a  reading- 
desk  in  the  general  office,  introduced  him  to  the 
stenographer,  Miss  Ellis,  a  middle-aged  and 
somewhat  prim  maiden,  of  a  spare  figure,  and  clear 
gray  eyes  that  looked  at  Sam  straight,  which  he 
liked  in  her.  Then  the  Squire  detailed  the  course 
for  study  that  Sam  was  to  pursue.  First  he  was  to 
spend  a  full  hour  on  Blackstone,  reading  it  slowly 
and  understandingly,  and  taking  notes.  At  the 
end  of  every  week  he  was  to  review  his  reading  by 
the  aid  of  his  notes. 

A  second  hour  was  to  be  spent  in  the  same  way 
with  Cooley  on  Torts.  To  be  followed  later  with 
Greenleaf  on  Evidence,  Kent's  Commentaries, 
always  looking  up  and  reading  the  State  Reports 
noted  on  the  margin,  and  making  notes.  At  the 
end  of  the  year  he  was  to  study  special  subjects, 
with  note-book  reviews  of  his  Blackstone  and 
Kent.  As  often  as  practicable  he  was  to  draw  by 
himself  some  common  legal  document,  such  as  a 


150  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

deed,  a  will,  a  complaint  and  warrant,  a  libel,  a 
bill  in  equity,  a  declaration  or  partnership  agree 
ment,  and  to  be  ready  to  render  such  assistance 
to  the  Squire  as  he  might  need. 

"For  you  know,  Sam,  in  some  places,  at  least 
in  England,  a  fee  of  considerable  size  is  commonly 
exacted  by  an  attorney  or  solicitor  of  a  student, 
whom  they  speak  of  as  an  articled  clerk.  In 
America  we  expect  them  to  be  willing  to  help  us 
without  remuneration,  and  to  use  our  libraries 
and  instruction  in  return  for  it.  And  now,  Sam, 
it  is  for  you  to  make  your  own  hours  of  work  and 
play.  My  hours  are  from  8.30  to  12.30,  from  2  to 
6,  which  I  think  is  long  enough  for  a  working  day. 
There  will  be  days  when  you  may  be  out  of  the 
office  on  work  of  mine,  looking  up  witnesses,  look 
ing  after  the  execution  of  papers,  and  later,  I 
hope,  drawing  them  up  yourself.  Some  of  the 
work  and  much  of  the  reading  will  be  hard  and 
dry,  but  to  me  it  has  been  interesting,  and  I  be 
lieve  it  will  be  so  to  you.  Don't  let  yourself  get 
fagged,  'stale,'  I  think  you  athletes  call  it,  and 
don't  get  out  of  training.  You  will  have  time  to 
ride  and  row  and  tramp,  and  you  will  need  it.  If 
you  are  regular  in  your  work,  you  will  come  along 
wonderfully  well. 

"And  now,  one  word  more:  the  law  is  a  great 
profession.  There  is  no  greater.  Should  the  time 
ever  come  when  you  grow  to  dislike  it,  when  you 


LEGAL  BEGINNINGS  151 

get  to  undervalue  it,  to  contrast  it  unfavorably 
with  any  other  profession,  when  you  feel  that  it 
is  not  worthy  of  the  best  there  is  in  you,  when 
you  cease  to  feel  that  it  is  the  corner-stone  of 
morality,  the  bedrock  of  virtue,  the  foundation- 
stone  of  right,  the  underlying  support  of  our  na 
tional  integrity,  then  you  have  mistaken  your 
vocation,  then  you  are  unworthy  to  become  or 
to  remain  a  practicing  lawyer.  Remember  this, 
my  boy." 

Sam  rose,  and  he  and  the  Squire  shook  hands 
solemnly,  while  the  stenographer  looked  straight 
at  them  with  her  clear  gray  eyes. 

"And  now,  Miss  Ellis,"  said  the  Squire,  turn 
ing  briskly,  "what  appointments  have  I  for  to- 
day?" 

The  stenographer  took  up  a  typewritten  sheet 
and  read.  "Mr.  Caleb  Terrell  at  9  about  the 
lease  of  the  Folsom  farm;  at  9.30,  Mr.  Woodman, 
of  Strasser  Holley  &  Company,  is  to  have  a  con 
sultation  in  the  Parker  v.  Manufacturing  Com 
pany  flowage  case;  at  10,  Probate  Court;  and 
this  afternoon  the  depositions  in  the  Peabody  v. 
Wainwright  case.  That  is  all  I  have  notes  of." 

"All  right,  Miss  Ellis,  thank  you.  Give  me  the 
list  and  bring  in  my  mail.  —  Oh,  here  comes  Mr. 
Terrell  now,"  as  a  tall,  massive,  somewhat  stoop- 
shouldered  old  man,  with  shaggy  eyebrows,  one 
defective  eye,  the  other  of  a  steely  gray,  so  sharp 


152  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

was  its  piercing  look,  came  heavily  into  the  office 
and  greeted  the  Squire.  Then  the  Squire,  taking 
his  pile  of  mail,  ushered  old  Caleb  into  his  consul 
tation  room,  Miss  Ellis  turned  to  her  typewriter, 
and  Sam,  opening  the  first  volume  of  Blackstone, 
set  vigorously  to  work  with  note-book  and  pen. 

A  half -hour  passed,  the  client  stalked  stiffly  out, 
Miss  Ellis  went  into  the  consultation  room,  and 
the  Squire  dictated  rapidly  to  her  until  Mr. 
Woodman,  a  young,  bald-headed  man,  with  a 
keen,  pleasant  face  arrived,  and  after  a  pleasant 
word  to  Miss  Ellis  went  in  with  the  Squire.  Ten 
o'clock  passed  and  Sam  read  on.  The  clock 
ticked,  and  the  typewriter  rattled,  and  the  dull 
murmur  of  voices  came  from  the  inner  room. 
Sam  was  aroused  from  his  concentration  by  the 
Squire  saying,  "Sam,  I  want  you  to  meet  Mr. 
Woodman,  the  junior  member  of  our  largest  law 
firm  in  the  State,  —  Strasser  and  Holley,  of  the 
capital  city." 

"Mighty  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Randolph," 
said  the  young  man  with  a  firm  grip  of  his  hand. 
"Yes,  we  are  the  largest  firm,  but  whenever  we 
get  so  tangled  up  in  a  jungle  of  law  that  the  en 
tire  firm  cannot  find  the  answer,  we  always  come 
to  Mr.  Branch  to  unravel  things." 

Sam  shook  hands  with  the  young  man  and  ad 
mired  the  well-set,  vigorous  figure,  and  the  strong 
shrewd  face. 


LEGAL  BEGINNINGS  153 

"Woodman  and  I  have  got  to  go  over  to  Pro 
bate  Court  for  an  hour  or  so,  and  if  any  one  calls, 
take  down  what  they  say,  if  they  can't  wait.  If 
their  business  is  important  enough  to  wait,  tell 
them  I  will  be  back, — well,  sometime,  I  guess." 

Sam  nodded  assent,  bowed  to  Woodman,  and 
he  and  the  Squire  departed  with  a  bundle  of  pa 
pers.  As  they  went  down  the  stairs  the  younger 
man  said,  "Rather  an  unusual  specimen,  that, 
Mr.  Branch.  By  George!  I  have  seldom  seen  a 
cleaner-looking,  better-built  young  chap  in  my 
life.  Where  did  he  come  from?  Not  the  country, 
surely?  He  looks  like  some  one  I  have  seen." 

"No,  a  New  Yorker,  son  of  a  friend  of  mine. 
His  father  died  leaving  him  nothing  beyond 
enough  to  live  a  few  years  economically,  and  he 
has  decided  to  study  law.  This  is  his  first  day  in 
the  office.  Of  course  it  is  an  experiment,  but  he 
will  do  something  in  some  way.  If  not  in  law, 
then  in  medicine  or  business." 

"He  might  go  into  the  ring  with  those  should 
ers,  and  that  chest,"  said  Woodman. 

"So  he  said,  when  he  found  he  was  broke," 
said  the  Squire  with  a  laugh.  "When  he  was  in 
college  he  was  an  athlete,  and  as  he  says,  little 
else." 

"  What  college?  "  asked  the  young  man  sharply. 

"Yale,"  replied  the  Squire. 

"Holy  Smoke!   I  thought  so.   Well,  I  guess  I 


154  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

have  seen  him,  and,  confound  him !  he  has  lost  me 
more  money  and  caused  Harvard  men  more 
heart  failure,  than  any  man  at  Yale  for  twenty 
years.  For  the  four  years  he  was  in  college,  after 
we  had  snapped  up  all  the  odds  we  could  get  on 
Harvard,  this  Randolph  would  go  galloping  over 
our  goal  line  for  a  touchdown  until  we  all  wanted 
to  kill  him,  —  the  swiftest,  grittiest,  line-bucking 
full-back  in  the  country,  he  was  then;  or  send  a 
red-hot  sizzling  liner  about  ten  feet  over  the  right- 
field  fence  when  the  bases  were  full,  the  score  a 
tie  at  the  last  half  of  the  ninth.  Then  he  won  all 
the  intercollegiate  wrestling  and  boxing  cham 
pionships.  Why,  Squire,  when  he  graduated, 
Harvard  planned  a  celebration,  and  felt  just  as 
the  North  felt  when  Lee  surrendered.  I  don't  be 
lieve  you  realize  what  a  chap  he  is.  And  every 
body  liked  him  too,  and  he  got  a  good  mark  in  his 
studies.  Why,  I'm  told  they  burn  incense  in 
front  of  a  tablet  in  the  Yale  Gym  where  his  rec 
ords  are." 

The  Squire  laughed.  "Well,  I  am  more  inter 
ested  in  wondering  what  sort  of  a  lawyer  he  will 
make." 

"I'll  bet  he  will  make  a  good  one.  He  likes  a 
square  fight.  Too  many  of  us,  — well,  I  must  n't 
say  that,  —  a  few  of  us,  and  that  is  too  many, 
look  to  results  rather  than  to  methods.  You 
know  that  is  so,  Mr.  Branch,"  said  Woodman. 


LEGAL  BEGINNINGS  155 

"  Yes,  Woodman,  I  know  that.  It  is  the  one  re 
proach  to  the  profession,"  said  the  Squire.  "But 
what  reason  have  you  to  suppose  that  because 
young  Randolph  is,  as  you  say,  a  famous  athlete, 
that  he  will  make  a  good  lawyer.  It  seems  to  me 
that  anything  carried  to  an  extreme,  like  athlet 
ics,  would  be  liable  to  stand  in  the  way  of  success 
in  a  business  or  professional  line." 

'That  is  a  danger,  I  admit,  but  it  seldom  is  so 
in  competitive  athletics  like  football,  rowing, 
baseball,  or  athletics  that  require  quick  eyes, 
alert  minds,  sound  judgment,  and  perfect  self- 
control.  I  tell  you,  Squire,  a  great  player  is 
obliged  to  be  a  mighty  brainy  sort  of  a  man,  and 
has  to  have  grit,  determination,  and  a  power  of 
concentration  to  learn  the  signals  and  plays.  Why, 
it 's  a  sort  of  muscular  chess  or  whist  playing,  and 
you  never  knew  a  lawyer  who  was  a  good  whist  or 
chess  player  who  was  not  a  good  lawyer?" 

"No,  I  can't  say  that  I  ever  did,  but  I  have 
known  some  good  lawyers  spoiled  by  poker,"  re 
torted  the  Squire  dryly,  as  they  entered  the  cor 
ridor  of  the  Probate  Court-Room,  where  a  short 
but  exceedingly  stiff  gentleman  on  the  bench  was 
listening  with  a  bored  air  to  an  elaborate  explan 
ation  of  why  an  executor  should  not  be  allowed 
the  usual  commission  of  two  and  one  half  per  cent 
upon  the  settlement  of  an  account. 

"I  shall  make  the  allowance  and  sign  the  de- 


156  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

cree,"  said  the  gentleman  on  the  bench  in  a  high 
voice,  "subject  to  your  appeal." 

"Very  well,  your  Honor,"  said  the  lank  attor 
ney  with  a<bow.  "Before  deciding  whether  or 
not  to  appeal,  I  shall  consult  my  client." 

Whereupon  he  withdrew  to  the  corridor  with 
his  client,  a  solemn-faced  man  with  a  frock  coat 
and  a  white  tie,  suggesting  the  cleric,  who,  when 
he  fully  understood  that  he  had  lost,  cursed  and 
swore  in  a  most  unclerical  manner,  in  which  he 
was  ably  seconded  by  the  lank  lawyer. 

"What's  the  matter,  Jim,  run  against  a 
stump?"  asked  the  Squire. 

"Stump!"  replied  Jim  in  huge  disgust.  "By 
the  Eternal !  that  stiff -backed  little  woodchuck  is 
the  most  unmitigated  ass  in  America.  Why,  if 
old  man  Blackstone,  Coke,  Kent,  and  Chitty 
should  come  into  his  damned  old  court  and  at 
tempt  to  argue  a  point  of  law,  and  he  got  a  brain 
less  wrinkle  in  that  thing  he  calls  his  mind  that 
they  might  be  wrong,  —  not  that  they  were,  or 
probably  were,  but  might  be  wrong,  —  why,  they 
might  just  as'well  try  to  fly  a  paper  kite  in  Hell  as 
to  expect  to  have  him  see  things  as  they  did.  It 's 
a  good  thing  to  have  a  good  opinion  of  one's  self, 
but  measureless,  boundless,  idiotic  conceit  raises 
hob  with  the  administration  of  justice." 

The  Squire  laughed.  "The  old  story,  Wrood- 
man,  of  one's  constitutional  right  to  damn  the 


LEGAL  BEGINNINGS  157 

court  when  the  decision  is  against  you";  and  they 
entered  the  court-room  and  took  their  seats  at 
the  long  table. 

Back  in  the  office  Sam  worked  away  at  his 
book.  Much  to  his  surprise  it  did  not  seem  dry 
or  uninteresting,  but  the  contrary,  and  the  pride 
of  taking  intelligent  and  legible  notes  kept  his 
interest  to  the  mark.  He  was  by  no  means  with 
out  interruption,  for  several  clients  inquiring  for 
the  Squire  came  successively  into  the  office.  All 
refused  to  state  their  business,  but  gave  their 
names  and  told  Sam  they  would  call  again. 

One,  a  sharp-featured  old  farmer  with  a  ruff  of 
reddish-gray  whiskers  under  his  chin,  sat  down 
to  converse  with  Sam. 

"  Be  you  a  new  clerk  or  a  student?  "  he  queried. 

"I  came  in  as  student,  but  expect  to  do  some 
clerking." 

"Wai,  I  reckon  ye '11  haffter  on  busy  days.  The 
Squire  duz  an  almighty  passel  er  business  some 
times." 

"I  hope  I  can  help  him  a  little;  he  has  helped 
me  enough." 

"No  doubt  on't:  Squire  allers  duz  more  for 
other  folks  than  for  hisself.  Seems  so  sum  folks 
is  made  so." 

"Not  many,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Sam  with  a 
smile. 

"Wai,"  said  the  old  man  dryly,  "th'  ain't  so 


158  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

many  thet  a  feller's  likely  to  git  craouded  'n' 
squat  much  raoun'  here;  something  like  cuckoos' 
nests." 

"Why!  are  they  rare?"  asked  Sam  in  surprise. 

"Guess  ye  ain't  never  lived  much  in  the  coun 
try,"  said  the  old  man,  taking  out  his  upper  set 
of  teeth  and  polishing  them  on  his  sleeve,  while 
his  upper  lip  promptly  retired  nearly  out  of  sight 
and  his  articulation  became  very  indistinct. 
"Cuckoos'  nests  is  rarer  'n  hen's  teeth." 

"That  is  new  to  me,"  said  Sam,  "and  inter 
esting  too.  What  do  they  do  for  nests." 

"What  dew  they  dew  fer  nests?  Wai,  I  sposed 
everybody  knowed  that,"  said  the  old  man,  quite 
doubling  himself  up  with  a  shrill  "kek,  kek,  kek" 
of  laughter.  :'Ye  see  the  tarnel  little  cusses  jest 
wait  raoun'  till  they  see  some  sparrer  or  robin  or 
teeter  or  some  other  bird  thet  has  left  its  nest, 
when  ez  quick  ez  scat  they  ups  and  lays  their 
eggs  in  the  nest  for  the  other  birds  to  hatch  'n' 
bring  up.  They  is  jest  like  some  lawyers  raoun' 
here.  They  git  a  case  bigger  'n'  they  kin  handle 
and  in  they  come  to  the  Squire  'n'  git  him  to  larn 
'em  the  law  'n'  help  'em  try  the  case,  'n'  take  all 
the  bother  'n'  they  take  all  the  money.  —  Haow 
d'  ye  like  it?"  he  queried  suddenly. 

"Like  what,"  asked  Sam;  "the  study  of  law?" 

'' Ya'as;  that 's  what  I  said." 

"Well,  considering  the  fact  that  I  have  just 


LEGAL  BEGINNINGS  159 

begun  to-day,  I  can't  quite  say,  but  I  think  I  do 
like  it,"  replied  Sam. 

"DJ  ye  know  what  a  negative  pregnant  is?" 
demanded  the  old  man. 

"No,"  said  Sam,  "I  never  heard  of  it." 

"Don't  know  what  nisi  prius  means  nuther? 
I'll  bate  ye  tew  dollars,"  continued  the  old  man. 

"It  is  some  kind  of  a  court,  I  think;  at  least 
I  Ve  read  in  the  papers  about  trials  at  nisi  prius, 
but  just  what  it  means,  I  can't  say,"  said  Sam, 
wrinkling  his  forehead  thoughtfully. 

"Oh,  wal,  ye '11  larn,  ye '11  larn.  I  wuz  tumble 
ignorant  once,  jelluk  you.  Why  once,  I  hearn  of 
a  feller  dyin'  intestate,  'n'  I  reely  thought  he  died 
of  some  kind  of  a  bowel  trouble,  when  it  only 
means  he  did  n't  leave  no  will,"  and  the  old  man 
again  broke  into  staccato  laughter.  "Then,  agin, 
when  my  Uncle  Cyrus  died,  —  Cyrus  Penniman, 
of  Liberty  Center;  ye  may  hev  hearn  of  him,  — 
no?  Wal,  never  mind;  he  left  a  letter  to  me  sayin' 
he'd  made  me  executor  of  his  will,  and  that  I'd 
find  his  las'  will  'n'  testament  in  his  desk,  locked 
up  in  a  draw.  Wal,  I  looked  in  the  desk  'n*  got  the 
key  'n'  unlocked  the  draw  'n'  faoun  the  will,  but 
I  could  n't  find  the  testament  ter  save  my  life.  I 
hunted  more'n  tew  hour  'n'  then  tuk  the  will  'n' 
hitched  up  the  old  hoss  'n'  put  for  the  Squire's,  'n' 
told  him,  'n'  he  laffed  fit  ter  kill  hisself .  He  told 
me  the  will  and  testament  wuz  the  same  thing, 


160  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

'n'  he  said  that  Charles  Dickens  had  wrote  abaout 
a  feller  once  that  hed  done  the  same  thing.  Jever 
hear  the  like?" 

:<  Yes,"  said  Sam,  "that  was  Captain  Cuttle  in 
Dombey  and  Son." 

"Sure  enuf,  the  same  feller.  Yeou  ain't  so  tur- 
rible  ignorunt,  be  ye?"  said  the  old  man  delight 
edly.  "P'raps  ye  kin  help  me,  if  the  Squire  ain't 
comin'  soon.  I  gotter  git  back.  Mother  '11  be  a- 
waitin'." 

"I  guess  there  is  not  much  chance  of  it;  but 
tell  me  what  the  question  is,  and  I  will  have  the 
Squire  write  you  about  it.  Will  that  do?" 

"Why,  yes.  Reely  you  be  quite  a  feller,"  said 
the  old  man.  "Neaou,  I'm  appointed  execwtor  of 
old  Matildy  Peaslee's  will.  She  died  las'  June  'n' 
the  will  wuz  proved  in  July,  'n'  an  execwtor  hes 
three  months  under  the  law  to  take  an  inventory 
of  the'goods  'n'  chattels,  reel  'n'  pussonal.  Neaou, 
old  Cyrus  Farnum  'n'  Eliphalet  W.  Simpkins  'n' 
young  Bill  Peterson  wuz  the  appraisers  'n'  done 
the  appraisin'.  Wai,  the  will  said,  'I  give,  be 
queath,  'n'  devise  untoe  Hitty  Ann  Parshly,  my 
cousin,  my  Marble  Faun  with  marginal  notes.' 
Wai,  I  hunted,  'n'  the  appraisers  hunted,  'n'  every 
body  hunted.  There  wuz  a  chiny  cat,  'n'  one  'v 
them  crockery  settin'  hens,  'n'  a  plaster  of  paris 
lion  with  one  leg  broke,  but  the'  wuzent  no  fawn. 
We  asked  the  neighbors  abaout  it,  'n'  nobody  had 


LEGAL  BEGINNINGS  161 

never  hearn  of  it  or  seen  it.  Neaou,  likely  it  was 
busted  'n'  thrown  away,  but  haow  a  marble  fawn, 
or  a  plaster  of  paris  fawn,  or  any  sort  of  a  fawn 
could  hev  marginal  notes  beats  me.  What  I  want 
t'  know  's  this.  If  we  can't  find  the  fawn,  do  we 
buy  her  another  or  not,  'n'  if  yes,  where  can  ye 
git  one  with  marginal  notes,  thet's  what?" 

For  a  moment  Sam  looked  at  him  with  aston 
ishment,  thinking  it  a  joke  on  him.  But  the  seri 
ousness  of  the  old  man's  face  was  that  of  a  man 
really  wishing  advice,  and  Sam  realized  that  he 
was  puzzled  and  had  absolutely  no  comprehen 
sion  of  the  truth  of  the  matter.  For  a  moment  an 
almost  uncontrollable  desire  to  laugh  nearly  over 
powered  him,  but  he  controlled  it,  although  con 
scious  of  the  laughing  eyes  of  the  stenographer 
upon  him. 

''Yes,  I  can  answer  that  question,  for  it  is  n't  a 
question  of  law.  The  Marble  Faun  is  a  book  writ 
ten  by  Hawthorne,  and  of  course  the  marginal 
notes  are  those  probably  made  by  her,  but  if  the 
notes  should  by  any  possibility  have  been  made 
by  the  author,  it  is  a  very  valuable  book.  I  would 
advise  you  to  examine  her  books  as  soon  as  pos 
sible." 

The  old  man  struck  himself  a  powerful  blow  on 
his  knee.  "By  thunder!  young  feller,  yeaou  got 
it.  Thet's  it.  I  thought  it  funny  for  a  fawn  to 
hev  marginal  notes.  We  all  thought  so.  What  a 


162  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

passel  of  doduncks  we  wuz.  Haw!  Haw!  Haw! 
how  mother  '11  laff  at  us.  Thet's  wuss  'n  the  tes 
tament.  I  swanny,  ye  be  quite  a  feller,  arter  all. 
Neaou,  'f  ye  ever  come  up  my  way,  jest  drop  in 
'n'  me  'n'  mother  '11  be  tickled  to  death.  Mother  '11 
git  ye  up  a  biled  dinner.  What's  to  pay,  —  no- 
thin'?  Wai,  wal,"  and  the  old  man  went  out 
chuckling;  then  stopped,  put  in  his  head  and  said, 
"  Say,  young  feller,  when  ye  find  aout  what  a  neg 
ative  pregnant  is,  tell  me.  I  bate  ye  it's  some- 
thin'  pretty  tough." 

The  Squire  came  in  with  Mr.  Woodman  just 
before  lunch,  dictated  a  few  letters,  saw  and  ad 
vised  an  insistent  client,  and  left  the  office  with 
Mr.  Woodman  at  12.30,  when  Sam  went  to  din 
ner  with  almost  as  much  appetite  as  if  he  had 
been  tramping  the  woods. 

At  a  quarter  of  two  he  was  back  in  the  office, 
where  he  found  the  Squire  at  his  table  in  the  gen 
eral  office  with  a  pile  of  the  law  reports  of  various 
states  before  him,  busily  employed  in  making 
notes.  He  nodded  at  Sam  and  then  turned  to  his 
books.  Sam  took  his  seat  at  his  desk  and  opened 
his  book  on  Torts. 

For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  there  was  silence, 
broken  only  by  the  scratching  of  the  Squire's 
pen  and  the  rustle  of  the  leaves  of  his  books. 

Then  clients  began  to  arrive,  and  the  Squire 
laid  aside  his  books  with  a  sigh  and  began  to  listen 


LEGAL  BEGINNINGS  163 

and  advise.  Sam  listened  attentively,  and 
marked  the  keenness  with  which  the  Squire  led 
them  to  the  point  in  issue,  and  the  conciseness 
yet  thoroughness  of  his  replies  and  explanations. 
He  noted  another  thing.  He  deprecated  the 
bringing  of  suits  and  always  urged  pacific  meas 
ures.  Indeed  one  client  who  was  for  drastic  ac 
tion,  and  who  had  been  advised  to  try  once  more 
to  accomplish  an  amicable  adjustment  of  his  dif 
ference  with  a  neighbor,  said,  "Squire,  for  a  man 
who  can  fight  a  lawsuit  as  you  can,  and  who  ap 
pears  to  enjoy  a  fight  as  much  as  you  do,  you  set 
tle  more  cases  out  of  court  than  any  lawyer  I  ever 
retained.  If  you  had  more  fight  in  you  at  the  be 
ginning,  you  might  do  twice  as  much  business." 

"Yes,  and  ten  times  as  much  harm.    If  you 
need  that  kind  of  advice  you  had  better  go  to  - 
well,  never  mind  whom.   Only,  if  I  manage  your 
case  you  do  as  I  say  absolutely,"  said  the  Squire 
firmly. 

"Oh!  I'll  do  as  you  say;  only  occasionally  I 
like  to  see  the  fur  fly." 

"Well,  I  like  to  see  the  fur  fly  myself  once  in  a 
while,  and  I  have  done  my  share  of  it,  but  never 
if  I  can  help  it.  There  is  altogether  too  much  liti 
gation  in  the  world,"  said  the  Squire,  turning  to 
the  next  client. 

For  a  while  the  office  was  quiet,  and  the  Squire 
took  the  opportunity  of  explaining  to  Sam  the 


164  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

nature  of  a  deposition,  the  occasion  for  taking 
them,  the  facts  of  this  particular  case,  and  the 
statutory  law  authorizing  the  taking  of  deposi 
tions.  He  was  so  exceedingly  clear  and  convincing 
in  his  explanations  that  after  the  witnesses,  the 
parties,  and  the  opposing  counsel  had  arrived, 
and  the  taking  of  the  depositions  had  commenced, 
Sam  was  able  to  understand  and  appreciate  the 
questions  and  the  objections  of  counsel  and  the 
relevancy  of  the  answers. 

Indeed,  when  Sam  went  to  supper,  he  felt  that 
he  had  a  duty  in  life,  and  for  once  was  enrolled  in 
the  ranks  of  workers,  one  who  had  done  a  satis 
factory  day's  work. 

He  ate  his  supper  with  a  relish  that  hard  work, 
and  the  consciousness  that  he  had  earned  it,  gave 
him,  and  after  supper  got  his  friend  Ben  and  took 
a  long  tramp  through  the  country,  finishing  with 
a  swim  in  the  river  and  arriving  at  the  hotel  at 
about  ten  o'clock.  As  they  ran  up  the  steps,  they 
heard  a  loud  chorus  of  most  discordant  singing. 
Evidently  a  crowd  of  loungers,  considerably  ex 
hilarated,  were  performing  that  well-known  clas 
sic,  "For  He's  a  Jolly  Good  Fellow,"  with  but 
slight  pretense  to  time  or  tune. 

When  they  glanced  into  the  barroom,  the  Sen 
ator's  elder  brother  stood  stiff,  straight,  and  dig 
nified,  surrounded  by  a  ring  of  vocalists. 

When  they  had  finished  he  bowed  and  said: — 


LEGAL  BEGINNINGS  165 

"Gentlemen,  your  sentiments  were  flattering, 
flattering.  But,  gentlemen,  your  intonation  was 
damnable.  Permit  me  to  bid  you  a  very  good 
night." 

Sam  and  Ben  went  upstairs  slowly.  "What  a 
pity,  what  a  pity!"  said  Sam  as  they  separated. 

'Yes,  it  is  a  world's  pity,"  said  Ben  as  he 
closed  his  door. 


CHAPTER  X 

MIXING 

SOMEWHAT  to  the  Squire's  surprise,  Sam's  in 
terest  in  the  profession  and  in  his  own  studies 
in  the  office  increased  instead  of  waning  as  the 
weeks  passed.  He  studied  faithfully,  worked 
away  at  his  legal  documents,  copying,  studying, 
and  taking  notes  of  their  provisions  with  a  keen 
discrimination. 

Indeed,  far  from  being  a  drag  on  the  Squire,  he 
soon  began  to  be  of  considerable  assistance  to 
him.  Having  readily  mastered  the  details  of  the 
execution  of  wills,  mortgages,  deeds,  leases,  as 
signments,  and  a  few  of  the  more  common  legal 
papers,  he  saved  the  Squire  a  great  deal  of  time 
and  travel. 

He  had  a  good  head  for  figures,  and  a  leaning 
toward  system,  which  the  Squire  lacked.  The 
ability  to  put  his  hand  on  the  particular  paper  de 
sired  had  never  been  one  of  the  Squire's  long  suits, 
and  the  amount  of  money  the  Squire  had  lost  in  the 
past  by  sheer  good-natured  neglect  to  make  the 
proper  charges  for  legal  services  was  appalling. 

The  most  careful  and  painstaking  of  men  in  the 
administration  of  the  affairs  of  a  client,  he  was 


MIXING  167 

most  neglectful  of  his  own.  He  might  have  been 
a  wealthy  man,  had  he  chosen,  but  he  charged  so 
little  for  his  services,  and  collected  so  small  a  per 
centage  of  the  charges  he  remembered  to  make; 
he  loaned  so  readily  to  impecunious  friends;  he 
paid  so  many  bills  that  should  have  properly  been 
paid  by  others,  that  he  was,  after  many  years  of 
hard  work,  a  comparatively  poor  man. 

Sam  noticed  these  peculiarities  in  the  Squire 
before  he  had  been  in  the  office  a  week,  and  was 
told  many  things  by  Miss  Ellis.  As  a  result,  be 
fore  long  they  had  secured  the  Squire's  permis 
sion  to  put  Sam  in  charge  of  the  fee-books  of  the 
office,  and  Sam  and  Miss  Ellis  devised  a  plain 
but  systematic  set  of  books  that,  reinforced  by 
a  dusty  copy  of  the  Rockaway  County  Fee  Bill, 
began  to  show  a  gratifying  increase  in  the  receipts 
from  the  business.  Of  course,  as  they  soon  real 
ized,  no  power  on  earth  could  induce  the  Squire 
to  regulate  his  charges  according  to  the  time  he 
spent,  and  he  would  at  times  spend  three  times 
the  necessary  time  in  talking  with  a  client  about 
matters  of  interest,  wholly  apart  from  profes 
sional  advice. 

Again,  it  was  appalling  to  see  the  Squire,  when 
Sam  had  drawn  off  a  bill  of  charges  from  the 
ledger,  slash  and  cut  out  a  large  part  of  a  perfectly 
reasonable  "and  moderate  charge,  on  the  plea  of 
making  a  discount. 


168  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"But,  Mr.  Branch,  why  should  you  make  any 
discount  from  a  proper  charge  when  you  did  the 
work?  Lovell  would  have  charged  a  third  more, 
and  so  would  the  Brookmouth  lawyers." 

"Sam,  my  boy,  when  will  you  ever  learn  that 
the  money  I  get  out  of  my  profession  is  the  last 
thing  I  think  of." 

"That  is  something  so  perfectly  evident  that 
I  never  can  forget  it.  It  is  brought  to  my  mind 
every  time  a  client  comes  in  to  pay  a  bill.  Really, 
Mr.  Branch,  I  think  a  man  owes  something  to 
himself." 

The  Squire  laughed  easily  and  said,  "I  am 
afraid,  Sam,  that  I  am  altogether  too  old  to 
change  my  habit.  You  know  a  shop-keeper  usu 
ally  throws  in  a  pair  of  suspenders  or  a  twenty- 
five  cent  necktie  when  he  sells  a  suit  of  clothes.  I 
suppose  that  is  what  we  all  are  doing." 

'That  is  all  well  enough,  Mr.  Branch,  if  you 
would  conform  to  his  idea  of  proportion,  but  you 
throw  in  a  coat  and  vest  every  time  you  sell  a 
pair  of  trousers,"  insisted  Sam. 

The  Squire  laughed,  rose,  thrust  his  hands  deep 
in  his  pockets,  and  took  a  turn  or  two  across  the 
office,  a  habit  he  had  when  amused. 

'The  first  I  know,  Sam,  there  will  be  a  com 
mittee  of  practicing  attorneys  waiting  on  me  to 
protest  against  my  cutting  prices." 

"Well,  as  for  that,"  said  Sam,  suddenly  chang- 


MIXING  169 

ing  his  tune,  "considering  the  fact  that  you  ad 
vise  them  in  most  of  their  cases,  and  practically 
try  the  greater  part  of  their  cases  that  you  are  not 
actually  engaged  in,  I  guess  you  have  a  right,  as 
far  as  they  are  concerned  to  charge  whatever  you 
please." 

"Well,  that  is  one  of  the  pleasantest  things  in 
the  profession,  Sam.  Why,  in  what  other  profes 
sion  will  you  find  such  friendly  competition,  such 
running  in  and  out  of  offices,  such  splendid  bat 
tles,  such  an  interchange  of  ideas?  Dry!  why,  if 
some  of  these  people  who  talk  about  the  dry  dust 
of  the  law  could  be  in  a  busy  office  for  a  month, 
they  would  have  their  eyes  opened  a  bit,  I'm 
thinking.  Why !  scarcely  a  day  passes  without  an 
amusing,  an  interesting,  or  a  positively  ludicrous 
thing  happening.  There,  what  did  I  say,"  he 
exclaimed  suddenly  as  loud  laughter,  a  buzz  of 
voices,  and  a  tramp  of  feet  upon  the  stairs  was 
heard,  and  in  burst  Lovell,  Blunt,  and  Langdon, 
the  county  solicitor  from  Brookmouth. 

"Well,  Squire,  you  missed  something  great  at 
the  Police  Court;  Joe,  here  - 

"Now,  Tom,  don't  begin  any  of  your  yarns; 
tell  the  truth  for  once,"  said  Joe. 

"I  swear,  none  of  you  will  believe  me.  This 
time  the  truth  sounds  too  almighty  improbable. 
Joe  won  a  case,"  said  Lovell,  slapping  his  knee; 
"Langdon  got  an  upper  cut." 


170  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"That  I  did,  Squire,"  said  Langdon,  shaking 
his  head,  half -amused  and  half -rueful;  "go  ahead, 
Lovell,  tell  it." 

"  No,  I  think  Joe  ought  to  tell  it.  It  is  n't  very 
often  he  gets  a  chance." 

"You  go  to  the  devil,  Tom,"  said  Joe;  "you 
are  getting  so  stupid  that  we  '11  have  to  get  a  scire 
facias  served  on  you.  Let  Langdon  tell  it.  He 
will  come  nearer  the  truth  than  any  one,  and  the 
joke  is  on  him  anyway." 

"Go  ahead,  Langdon,"  said  Tom,  "if  Joe  is 
modest.  First  time  I  ever  knew  him  to  be." 

"Well,"  said  Langdon,  lighting  a  cigar,  "it 
only  shows  how  little  sense  a  prohibitionist  has. 
But  then  I  have  had  experience  enough  with 
cranks  to  have  known  better  than  to  trust  one's 
judgment  and  put  a  man  in  the  witness  stand 
without  knowing  what  he  is  going  to  say." 

''You  see,  I  got  a  telephone  to  come  here  and 
try  a  liquor  prosecution  against  Jim  Henessey.  I 
had  issued  a  warrant,  and  had  made  it  a  day  or 
night  search,  and  as  usual  the  complainant  sum 
moned  Henessey  without  searching,  and  got  the 
court  janitor,  old  Ben  Jackson,  as  a  witness,  tell 
ing  him  to  go  into  Henessey's  saloon  and  see  if 
the  barrels  marked  'rum'  had  anything  in  them 
or  were  dummies.  So  the  old  man  went  in,  looked 
them  over,  hefted  them,  saw  the  mark  'New 
England  Rum,'  and  came  out.  I  got  up  here  just 


MIXING  171 

in  time  for  court.  The  officer  who  summoned 
Henessey  was  there  and  said  that  Old  Ben  was 
my  crack  witness,  so  I  began  and  the  dialogue 
was  about  like  this:  - 

'"What's  your  name,  and  where  do  you  live?' 

"'  Ma  name,  sah,  is  Benjamin  Jackson,  an'  ah 
resides,  sah,  in  this  town,  sah.' 

'Do  you  know  Mr.  Henessey,  the  respond 
ent?' 

'The  'spondent,  ah  sholy  duz,  sah,  ah  sholy 
duz.' 

"Did  you  have  occasion  to  visit  his  place  of 
business  on  Water  Street  yesterday?' 

"'Ah  did,  sah,  ah  sholy  did.' 

"By  the  way,  what  sort  of  a  place  does  Mr. 
Henessey  keep?' 

'What  sort  of  a  place?  Bery  nice  place,  boss, 
bery  nice  place,  sah. ' 

"'But  what  kind  of  a  place?  What  does  he  sell?' 

"Ah,  ya-a-s,  sah;  he  sells — ah — pigs'  feet,  'n' 
oysters,  'n'  sardines,  'n'  crackers,  'n'  salt  fish.' 
'Yes,  and  does  he  sell  anything  to  drink?' 

"'That,  boss,  ah  could  n't  zackly  say.' 

'"Glasses  there,  were  n't  there?' 

'"Sartin,  boss,  sartin,  glasses.' 

'"And  bottles?' 
'Ya-a-s,  sah,  bottles.' 

" '  And  you  got  something  to  drink,  did  n't  you  ? ' 

"'No,  boss,  mister  lawyer,  sah,  ah  did  n't.' 


172  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"'Did  you  see  any  one  there  drinking?' 
' '  Boss,  ah  sholy  duzent  ricollec'  seein'  any  one.' 
"Have  you  had  anything  to  drink  there?' 
"Boss,  ah  sholy  has  n't  had  a  drink  for  mo  'n 
a  year.' 

'What  did  you  go  in  there  for?' 
: '  Boss,  ah  wuz  tole  by  a  mos'  'spectable  gem- 
man  to  go  thar  'n'  see  if  dem  bar'ls  wuz  full.' 

' '  Oh  yes,  uncle,  now  we  are  getting  to  some 
thing.   Now,  were  the  barrels  full  or  empty?' 
"Dey  wuz  all  full,  or  mos'  full.' 
' '  Now,  uncle,  what  were  the  barrels  full  of  ?  ' 
'Dat,  sah,  ah  was  onable  to  say.' 
"Look  here,  sir,  can  you  read?' 
'Ya-a-s,  sah,  ah  can  read,  sah.' 
"Oh,  you  can  read?   Now,  what  was  written 
on  the  barrels?' 

'What  wuz  wrote  on  dem  bar'ls,  sah?' 
'Yes,  what  —  was  —  written  —  on  —  the  - 
barrels;  do  you  understand?' 

'Ya-a-s,  sah,  ah  unerstands  yo.  Well,  sah, 
de  words  on  dem  bar'ls  wuz  "New  England 
Rum,"  sah;  "New  England  Rum,"  an'  dey  wuz 
one  which  sayed  "Booban  Whiskey,"  sah.' 

"Now,  sir,  you  have  said  the  barrels  were  full 
or  nearly  full,  have  you  not,  sir? ' 

'"Ya-a-as,  boss,  ah  sholy  has  sayed  dat,  sah.' 

'"And  you  have  said,  sir,  that  the  barrels  were 

marked  "New  England  Rum,"  have  you  not,  sir?' 


MIXING  173 

"'Ya-a-s,    boss,    ah   has   sayed    dat   ah,    an* 
"Booban  Whiskey,"  sah.' 

'"Now,  sir,  what  do  you  say  now  was  in  the 
barrels?' 

"Ah  sholy  don't  know,  boss,  fore  Gord!  sah.' 
'What's  that,  sir?  Be  very  careful,  sir,  what 
you  say.   Do  you  say  now  that  you  do  not  know 
what  was  in  the  barrels?' 

"Ah  duz  say  dat  ah,  boss;  ah  tink  dat  writing 
on  dem  bar'ls  wuz  false  witness.' 

"Oh,  you  think,  do  you,  that  the  marking  was 
wrong?  That  a  full  barrel,  in  a  liquor  saloon, 
marked  "New  England  Rum,"  doesn't  contain 
New  England  Rum,  and  that  the  marking  was 
wrong?  Explain  that,  sir,  to  the  court,  sir.' 

" '  Ya-a-s,  sah,  mister  lawyer,  an'  mister  Jedge, 
sah,  dey  wuz  some  odder  writin'  on  dem  bar'ls.' 

"Oh,  there  were  some  other  words  on  the 
barrels,  were  there?  Well,  what  were  the  other 
words?' 

'Well,  sah,  when  ah  sees  "New  England 
Rum"  and  "Booban  Whiskey"  wrote  on  dem 
bar'ls,  sah,  ah  nachelly  tinks  dey  wuz  New  Eng 
land  Rum  an'  Booban  Whiskey  in  dem  bar'ls, 
but  when  ah  sees  all  dem  bar'ls  has  the  words 
"James  Henessey"  wrote  on  dem,  ah  just  nach 
elly  lost  all  confidence  in  dem  ah  bar'ls,  case  ah 
sees  old  Jim  Henessey  a-settin'  in  a  cheer  by  de 
do/ 


174  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Well,  Squire,  he  was  all  the  witness  I  had, 
and  the  court  had  to  discharge  Henessey  for  want 
of  evidence.  The  cussed  old  lying  nigger!"  said 
Langdon,  flicking  the  ashes  from  his  cigar. 

And  the  trio  tramped  down  the  stairs,  laugh 
ing,  and  went  down  the  street  to  tell  the  story  to 
their  friends,  while  the  Squire  and  Sam  turned  to 
their  books. 

These  talks  with  the  Squire  were  the  result  of 
a  strong  friendship  that  was  growing  up  between 
them.  It  was  not  familiarity  on  either  side.  The 
Squire  could  be  cordial,  pleasant,  and  at  times 
even  playful,  but  never  familiar.  On  the  other 
hand,  Sam  had  an  innate  sense  of  respect  and 
deference  to  any  person  older  than  he,  which  pre 
vented  him  from  becoming  familiar,  least  of  all 
with  a  man  of  the  Squire's  age,  and  the  respect  in 
which  Sam  held  him.  With  Sam  he  was  always 
"Mr.  Branch,"  never  "Squire,"  a  form  of  ad 
dress  which  had  in  it,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  an  ele 
ment  of  familiarity  that  was  out  of  place. 

During  the  fall  Sam  rowed  and  ran,  tramped, 
and  occasionally  got  a  chance  to  ride  some  espe 
cially  new  and  untried  horse  of  Alvy's,  who  was 
constantly  trading  or  buying  horses  and  did  not 
wish  them  ruined  by  unskillful  or  brutal  stable 
men.  So  Sam,  who  had  a  light  hand,  a  firm  seat, 
and  great  patience,  was  interested  in  the  try  out 
of  new  horses  both  to  saddle  and  harness,  and  en- 


MIXING  175 

joyed  many  a  good  ride  and  an  occasional  and 
interesting  battle. 

Added  to  these  duties  he  had  undertaken  to 
teach  Polly  to  ride  an  Indian  pony  bought  for  her 
by  the  Squire,  and  several  evenings  a  week,  clad 
in  sleeveless  shirt,  corduroys,  and  light  run 
ning  shoes,  and  holding  the  pony  by  a  lead-rein, 
he  ran  beside  the  pony  instructing  Polly  how  to 
rise  to  the  trot,  how  to  throw  her  weight  forward, 
how  to  sit  close,  and  how  to  keep  a  light  but  firm 
hand  on  the  pony  so  as  to  guide  and  control,  but 
not  to  excite  or  fret  him.  Sam  seemed  quite  as 
tireless  as  the  pony,  and  the  delighted  Polly  was 
fast  becoming  a  graceful  and  accomplished  horse 
woman,  equally  to  the  delight  of  the  Squire,  who 
sat  and  smoked  and  congratulated  Polly,  when 
with  cheeks  flushed  and  eyes  shining,  she  allowed 
"Uncle  Ira"  to  lift  her  from  the  saddle. 

On  one  never-to-be-forgotten  day  Sam  dis 
carded  the  lead-rein  and  appeared  in  full  riding 
costume  astride  a  handsome  chestnut,  and  Polly 
straightway  was  lifted  on  Frisk,  who  wore  for  the 
first  time  the  beautiful  white  Mexican  bridle  that 
used  to  hang  in  Sam's  New  York  room,  and  they 
rode  for  miles  over  the  country  roads,  deep  in 
brown  and  gold  and  crimson  leaves,  and  little 
Polly  dreamed  that  Sam  was  a  brave  knight  and 
she  a  "fayer  ladye,"  and  could  scarcely  be 
brought  back  to  the  present,  even  when  a  squir- 


176  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

rel  ran  across  the  road  or  a  partridge  whirred  up 
from  the  wood  path,  startling  the  horses. 

Then  after  their  rides  Sam  and  the  Squire 
would  sit  and  talk  and  smoke  until  late,  and  the 
Squire  learned  much  of  Sam,  his  strong  and  his 
weak  points,  his  likes  and  dislikes,  and  came  to 
like  and  admire  him  more  and  more. 

Twice  the  three  of  them  had  been  invited  to 
take  tea  at  the  Hilton  farm,  and  Sam  had  been 
charmed  with  their  quaint  hospitality,  their 
courtesy,  their  dignity  and  kindliness.  He  had 
met  their  sister,  who  ruled  the  household  and 
presided  at  their  table,  and  he  gladly  admitted  to 
the  Squire  that  he  had  never  met  a  woman  whose 
manners  were  so  happy  a  combination  of  the 
grande  dame  and  the  simple  kindly  soul. 

Sam  was  making  many  friends  in  town.  Ben 
and  the  machinists  swore  by  him.  Alvy  was 
never  tired  of  talking  about  him.  The  stablemen 
swore  by  many  and  horrid  oaths  that  he  was  the 
best  man  with  a  "hoss"  in  the  country.  The 
loungers  approved  of  him  with  some  reservations, 
considering  that  he  never  drank  with  them  or 
treated  them.  The  clerks  did  not  like  him.  He 
had  not  joined  their  club,  giving  as  a  reason  that 
he  could  not  spare  the  time,  nor  did  he  attend 
their  suppers  at  Duval's  restaurant.  The  excuse 
he  gave  was  that  he  did  not  wish  to  incur  the  ex 
pense,  which  was  true  enough.  But  the  real  rea- 


MIXING  177 

son  was  that  after  one  experience  he  had  no  fur 
ther  interest  in  the  entertainments,  which  seemed 
to  combine  gluttony  with  cheap  stories  and  little 
else. 

As  the  cold  weather  came,  he  did  join  the  "Gym 
nasium  Club,"  which  he  found  had  a  fairly  well- 
equipped  exercising-room  in  the  old  armory  build 
ing.  He  felt  the  need  of  work  with  the  apparatus 
during  the  cold  months,  and  the  pleasant  gymna 
sium  competition  removed  all  danger  of  the  work 
becoming  tiresome,  as  it  would  naturally  be  alone 
in  one's  room. 

The  first  night  he  attended  he  found  fifteen  or 
twenty  young  fellows  lifting  heavy  dumb-bells, 
swinging  huge  clubs,  and  doing  heavy  work  on 
parallels  with  great  vigor.  Some  of  them  had 
marked  chest  and  arm  development,  while  their 
legs  seemed  comparatively  undeveloped.  One 
fellow  was  putting  up  the  fifty -pound  weight  al 
ternately  with  right  and  left  hand,  with  much 
grunting  and  profuse  perspiration.  Indeed,  as 
his  grunting,  puffing,  and  perspiration  increased, 
his  speed  and  vigor  diminished  in  equal  propor 
tion,  until  his  arms  refused  to  stir  the  weight 
from  his  shoulder. 

Another  man  was  trying  desperately  to  do  the 
"grasshopper"  on  the  parallels  and  wrenching 
his  pectorals  savagely  in  the  attempt.  Indeed, 
every  one  exercising  was  making  desperately 


178  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

hard  work  out  of  it,  seemingly  trying  to  get  the 
greatest  possible  amount  of  exercise  in  the  short 
est  time. 

So  Ben,  who  came  with  Sam,  was  somewhat 
surprised  to  see  Sam,  who  had  changed  his  street 
clothes  fora  suit  of  sleeveless  shirt, running-draw 
ers,  and  rubber-soled  shoes,  pick  up  the  smallest 
and  lightest  clubs  from  the  rack,  retire  to  a  safe 
corner  and  go  through  a  few  easy,  graceful  mo 
tions.  After  that  he  exercised  a  few  minutes  with 
the  lightest  dumb-bells.  Then  a  rest  for  a  few 
minutes,  then  the  uprights  for  a  while,  a  few  dips 
on  the  parallels,  a  few  simple  motions  on  the  hori 
zontal,  and  Sam  was  through,  after  a  shower  and 
a  rubdown. 

"Pretty  light  exercise,  that,  I  should  say  for  a 
man  of  your  build,"  said  Ben. 

"Plenty  for  the  first  time.  It  is  no  particular 
benefit  to  get  all  stiffened  up  and  then  have  to 
work  it  off  slowly.  The  better  way  is  not  to  get 
stiff.  The  next  time  I  can  do  a  little  more,  and 
the  next  time  after  that  more  still,  until  I  can  do 
a  good  hour's  exercise  without  fatigue.  Two 
hours  is  not  too  much  if  it  is  not  heavy  exercise. 
The  men  here  are  working  too  hard  and  are  much 
more  liable  to  injury  than  benefit,"  said  Sam. 

"Yes,  they  may  strain  themselves,  but  they 
are  pretty  husky  men,  and  you  will  admit  they 
are  developed  well,"  insisted  Ben. 


MIXING  179 

"They  are  developed,  but  not  equally  or 
evenly.  Look  at  the  man  who  was  putting  up  the 
heavy  weights.  His  development  is  in  his  arms, 
neck,  and  shoulders.  His  legs  are  good  because 
one  cannot  lift  weights  without  using  one's  legs. 
You  see  his  chest  is  badly  developed.  Look  at  the 
fellow  with  the  over-developed  pectorals.  Arms 
and  chest  good,  light  below.  Then  you  see  his 
muscles  have  developed  in  knots  and  bunches. 
Sure  to  be  muscle-bound  before  long,  and  slow. 
That  is  the  great  trouble  with  gymnasium  devel 
opment.  There  is  too  strong  a  tendency  to  un 
even  development.  I  tell  you,  Ben,  smooth,  firm, 
but  not  hard  muscles  are  the  ones  to  have  and  the 
ones  that  will  stand  work." 

Sam  came  several  nights  during  the  week,  and 
rapidly  began  to  get  into  shape.  Those  who  were 
inclined  to  jeer  at  his  light  exercises,  noticed  how 
easily  he  did  difficult  tricks  on  bar  and  trapeze, 
and  how  little  it  breathed  him.  The  third  week 
he  came,  the  gloves  were  brought  out,  and  two  of 
the  heavy  men  put  them  on,  and  after  a  moment's 
preliminary  sparring  began  to  hammer  one  an 
other  in  a  savage  and  awkward  manner,  until  one 
got  a  bad  fall  in  being  knocked  against  a  piece  of 
apparatus,  and  had  to  quit. 

Several  other  bouts  were  had  in  which  very 
little  boxing,  but  much  heavy  hitting  was  in 
dulged  in.  Finally,  the  first  and  victorious  heavy 


180  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

weight  invited  Sam  to  put  them  on.  Sam  de 
clined,  and  said,  "You  strike  too  hard  for  fun. 
My  idea  of  sparring  is  that  it  should  be  light  and 
quick.  More  for  exercise  than  for  punishment. 
I  can't  see  the  fun  of  standing  up,  as  you  fellows 
have  been  doing,  and  hammering  each  other. 
Boxing  is  self-defense,  and  a  good  lightweight 
with  science  ought  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  a 
heavyweight  and  eventually  beat  him." 

"Well,  I  think  a  fellow  who  stands  up  to  box 
with  another  ought  to  be  able  to  stand  a  few 
punches.  And  if  he  can't,  why,  then,  he  ought 
not  to  box,"  said  the  heavyweight. 

:'Yes,"  said  Sam,  smiling,  "a  fellow  who  boxes 
must  take  some  chances,  but  he  ought  to  develop 
quickness  enough  to  make  the  chances  small.  I  '11 
show  you  what  I  mean.  I  'm  going  to  put  on  the 
gloves  with  you,  if  you  will,  and  I'm  going  to 
take  a  chance  of  getting  my  head  knocked  off  if 
you  manage  to  land  one  of  your  mule-kick  blows, 
but  I'm  going  to  try  not  to  have  them  land." 

"All  right,"  said  Williams,  the  heavyweight; 
"now,  you'll  see  how  long  you  will  stand  up  to 
me." 

"Bless  your  soul,  I'm  not  going  to  stand  up 
to  you  at  all.  I'm  to  see  if  I  can  avoid  getting 
hit." 

"All  ready  for  the  foot-race,"  yelled  a  wag. 

The  members  made  a  large  ring,  and  Sam, 


MIXING  181 

drawing  on  the  gloves,  advanced  to  the  centre 
to  meet  Williams.  Sam  was  on  his  toes  as  light 
as  a  cat,  with  his  arms  weaving  in  and  out  in 
cessantly. 

Williams  held  his  guard  rigid,  then  rushed  and 
struck  heavily,  but  Sam  was  not  there.  Then,  as 
Sam  came  back  to  the  centre  he  drove  a  heavy 
right,  but  Sam  side-stepped  him,  and  as  he  re 
covered,  Sam  was  upon  him  like  lightning  and 
flicked  him  twice  with  his  open  gloves. 

Williams  feinted  with  his  left  and  swung  heav 
ily  with  his  right,  and  Sam  ducked,  got  in  a  light 
right  and  left  on  Williams's  ribs,  and  was  out  of 
danger.  Williams  kept  rushing  and  hammering, 
but  could  not  land,  while  Sam  landed  at  will,  but 
without  any  force. 

Finally,  Williams  pulled  up  in  huge  disgust, 
panting  heavily.  "Why  in  thunder  don't  you 
stand  up  like  a  man?"  he  growled  wrathfully. 

"Because  I'm  young  to  die,"  laughed  Sam. 

Williams,  who  was  a  good-natured  man, 
laughed  too.  "By  thunder!  it's  like  fighting  a 
shadow  on  a  windy  day,  but  I'll  get  you  yet," 
and  he  rushed  again,  but  received  a  couple  of  light 
facers  and  had  his  blows  blocked  with  ease. 

Finally,  he  pulled  off  the  gloves,  took  a  seat  on 
a  mat,  and  slowly  regained  his  breath,  while  Sam, 
scarcely  breathed  at  all,  stood  waiting. 

"Well,  Mr.  Randolph,"  said  Williams  at  last, 


182  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"you've  got  me  beat,  but  I'd  like  to  see  you  try 
some  one  else,  —  Carter  there  will  do.  Say,  Tom, 
see  if  you  can  hit  him." 

So  Carter,  nothing  loath,  put  on  the  gloves, 
and  did  his  best,  but  could  n't  hit  Sam,  and  once, 
being  caught  off  his  balance  in  trying  to  recover 
from  a  furious  rush,  was  tipped  completely  off  his 
feet  by  a  blow  that  would  not  have  hurt  a  child. 
He  sprang  up,  and  rushed  and  drove  and  swung 
until  he  lost  his  breath  and  had  to  retire,  blown 
but  unhurt. 

:' There,  fellows,  I  guess  that  will  do  for  a  while. 
I  can't  hope  to  have  such  good  luck  always,  as  to 
keep  from  being  hit,"  said  Sam;  "but  you  see  my 
idea  now.  The  lighter  you  spar,  the  more  exer 
cise  you  get,  the  quicker  you  become,  and  the 
better  you  train  your  eyes  and  your  hands,  and 
the  more  fun  there  is  in  it.  But  the  way  you  go  at 
it,  you  are  bound  to  get  hurt,  and  are  mighty 
likely  to  get  a  crack  that  might  put  you  out  for  a 
week." 

;'Yes,"  said  Thing,  a  quiet,  thoughtful  fellow, 
"but  Williams's  and  Carter's  way,  compared  to 
your  way,  is  like  football  compared  to  tennis." 

"Not  a  fair  comparison,"  replied  Sam,  "for 
football  is  a  good  game  and  ought  not  to  be  com 
pared  to  slugging.  To  be  sure,  slugging  will  creep 
into  football,  but  the  team  that  slugs  is  the  team 
that  is  generally  beaten,  and  so  is  the  boxer  who 


MIXING  183 

depends  on  slugging  to  win  a  bout;  that  is,  if  he 
is  up  against  a  good  man." 

;' That's  all  very  well,"  said  Loomis,  "but  you 
could  n't  put  a  man  out  in  a  month  of  Sundays 
with  your  blows." 

"That's  right  enough,"  said  Sam;  "but  there 
is  no  reason  why  a  good  boxer  should  not  be  a 
hard  hitter.  In  fact,  a  part  of  the  training  of  a 
good  boxer  is  to  throw  his  weight  quickly  either 
behind  his  own  blows  or  away  from  his  oppon 
ent's.  In  other  words,  footwork  in  a  boxing- 
match,  a  prize  fight,  or  a  street  row  is  of  fully  as 
much  importance  as  quickness  with  one's  hands." 

"Evidently  your  training  did  n't  include  hard 
hitting,"  said  Dunbar,  who  generally  said  un 
pleasant  things. 

"I  guess  the  trouble  was  more  in  me  than  in 
my  training,"  replied  Sam,  lighting  his  pipe,  and 
springing  down  from  a  vaulting-horse.  "  But  I 
must  be  going.  Come  on,  Ben,  I  promised  Mr. 
Branch  to  stop  at  his  office  at  9  and  it  is  8.50 
now,"  and  bidding  the  boys  good-night  he  strode 
out  with  Ben. 

"Well,"  said  Williams,  after  Sam  had  left,  "it 
may  be  that  he  can  keep  that  up,  but  I'd  rather 
see  a  little  harder  hitting  than  that.  If  that  fel 
low  ever  gets  into  a  mixup  with  Bill  Evans,  he 
will  wish  he  had  a  little  less  quickness  and  a  good 
deal  more  strength  to  his  blows.  Bill  is  as  quick 


184  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

as  a  cat,  and  can  strike  like  the  piston  rod  of  an 
engine." 

"By  George!"  said  another  man,  putting  down 
his  clubs,  "I  ain't  so  sure  of  that.  A  feller  who 
can  do  the  things  he  can  do  on  the  parallels  and 
bar,  and  can  stand  up  to  you  fellers  like  he  did, 
ain't  no  slouch.  It  stands  to  reason  that  he  can 
hit  some.  You  mark  my  words,  Bill  Evans  is  in 
for  a  surprise  party  when  he  runs  up  agin  that 
New  Yorker." 

"Oh,  shucks!  Jim,"  said  Williams,  "p'r'aps  the 
New  Yorker  can  keep  outer  Bill's  way  for  a  few 
minutes,  but  when  he  does  run  his  head  against 
Bill's  fists,  he'll  go  to  the  mat  all  right.  'N'  he 
can't  hurt  Bill  with  them  little  punky  punches 
neither.  I  like  the  feller,  'n'  I  don't  wanter  see 
Bill  lick  him  neither." 

"Damn  Bill  anyway,"  said  another;  "he 
oughter  have  a  lickin'  from  some  one,  but  the 
way  this  Randolph  hits  I'm  afraid  he  ain't  the 
feller  to  do  it.  It's  queer  too.  He  is  as  quick  as  a 
cat,  and  is  strong,  too,  or  he  could  n't  do  them 
tricks  on  the  bar." 

"I'll  tell  you,"  said  Loomis,  "how  we  could 
find  out  if  he  really  can  hit." 

"How?"  demanded  the  others,  with  vast  in 
terest. 

"Well,  he  seems  a  willing  sort  of  fellow,  and 
will  spar  with  us  every  night  if  we  ask  him.  Now, 


MIXING  185 

let's  arrange  some  night  to  have  Bill  Evans  in 
and  spring  him  on  the  New  Yorker." 

"Say,  Loomis,  that's  great,"  said  Carter; 
"both  Bill  and  the  New  Yorker  will  be  willing, 
and  we  can  see  if  there  is  much  truth  in  the  talk 
of  science  against  strength." 

The  others  chimed  in  with  boisterous  approval 
and  Carter  was  pounded  on  the  back. 

"I  don't  like  the  idea  at  all,"  said  Rollins,  a 
slight  fellow  with  a  good  face,  a  bookkeeper  in 
one  of  the  mills.  "It  don't  seem  the  square  thing 
on  a  member  to  trap  him  into  a  prize  fight,  for 
that  is  what  it  will  be." 

"Prize  fight  nothin',"  said  Carter;  "it  is  only 
a  chance  to  have  a  little  fun.  Nobody 's  going  to 
be  hurt.  This  Randolph  has  come  up  here  as 
cocky  as  you  please,  and  has  found  fault  with  our 
style  of  boxing.  Now,  let 's  have  him  stand  up  to 
a  good  man  and  see  if  his  own  style  is  any  good, 
that's  my  idea." 

"And  mine,  too,"  said  Loomis. 

"I'm  with  you,  Loomis,"  said  Jim.  "It's  all 
right,  and  if  the  New  Yorker  has  any  sporting 
spirit  he  will  look  at  it  right." 

''You  fellows  don't  see  what  I  am  driving  at; 
Randolph  don't  object  to  sparring  with  you  fel 
lows,  because  you  are  friends  of  his.  But  it's  a 
different  thing  to  spar  with  a  tough  who  has 
it  in  for  you,"  said  Rollins. 


186  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

''What  of  that?  everything  will  be  fair.  We 
will  see  that  Bill  is  up  to  no  tricks.  We  will  give 
him  to  understand  that  before  he  conies  in,"  said 
Carter. 

"Well,  there  is  n't  much  use  talking  to  you  fel 
lows,  but  I  think  it's  a  low-down  trick  on  a  de 
cent  fellow.  Whenever  we  get  a  man  like  Ran 
dolph  in  a  club,  I  think  we  ought  to  be  civil  to 
him  instead  of  trying  to  get  him  into  a  fight.  I  '11 
bet  he  won't  spar  him,"  concluded  Rollins  indig 
nantly. 

"  Well,  if  he  don't,  it  will  be  a  clear  case  of  craw 
fish.  See  here,  Rollins,  you  are  not  going  to  squeal 
on  us,  are  you?"  asked  Loomis. 

"No,  I'm  not.  I'm  coming  down  here  the 
night  you  pull  off  this  thing,  and  I  '11  bet  it  will 
cost  the  club  some  memberships,"  and  Rollins 
left. 

"Huh!  there  is  such  a  thing  as  being  too  al 
mighty  particular,  and  Rollins  is  one  of  that 
kind,"  growled  Carter.  'You  don't  suppose  he 
will  give  us  away,  do  you?" 

"He?  No,  I  should  say  not.  Rollins  is  all  right, 
only  his  ideas  are  a  bit  too  good  for  every  day 
people;  but  he  won't  squeal,"  said  Bruce,  another 
member. 

"I  feel  something  the  same  way  Rollins  does," 
said  Williams.  "If  I  was  a  sort  of  high-toned  fel 
ler  like  Randolph,  I  don't  believe  I  should  like  it 


MIXING  187 

very  well  myself;  but  I  guess  it 's  worth  try  in',  an' 
if  he  should  tucker  Bill  out  like  he  did  me  and 
Carter,  why  't  would  be  worth  it." 

"But  what  if  Bill  licks  him?"  asked  another. 

"Why,  then,  Randolph  will  show  whether  he 
is  game  enough  to  take  a  lickin'  in  the  right 
spirit,"  Carter  said  promptly.  "If  he  is  n't,  why, 
so  much  the  worse  for  him." 

So  it  was  arranged  that  on  Thursday  evening 
of  the  next  week  the  affair  should  be  pulled  off, 
and  Carter  and  Loomis  were  to  act  as  a  commit 
tee  to  arrange  matters  with  Bill,  who,  as  they  ex 
pected,  entered  into  the  arrangement  with  the 
greatest  eagerness,  and  swore  the  most  fearful 
oaths  not  only  to  pummel  Sam  to  pudding,  but 
not  to  divulge  the  game  to  a  soul,  not  even  to  his 
particular  friends.  He  exacted  a  promise  from 
them  that  they  should  invite  several  of  his  ac 
quaintances  to  be  present  at  a  gymnastic  compe 
tition. 

For  the  next  few  days  Sam  had  the  opportun 
ity  to  spend  an  hour  at  the  gymnasium  nearly 
every  evening,  and  spent  a  part  of  the  time  in 
sparring  with  several  of  the  members,  and  when 
the  suggestion  was  made  that  he  join  the  mem 
bers  in  a  little  exhibition  of  gymnastics  on  the 
Thursday  mentioned,  he  very  readily  agreed, 
even  going  so  far  as  to  promise  to  spar  with  Wil 
liams  and  Carter,  upon  the  understanding  that 


188  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

only  a  few  of  the  personal  friends  of  the  members 
were  to  be  invited. 

When  Thursday  evening  came,  he  was  a  trifle 
late,  owing  to  a  bit  of  work  he  had  promised  to 
finish  for  the  Squire  after  supper,  and  it  was  with 
well-inked  fingers  that  he  arrived  in  season  to 
put  on  his  "gym"  suit.  He  noticed  that  the  seats 
around  the  sides  and  back  of  the  room  were  well 
filled,  and  that  ladders  and  the  horses  were  cov 
ered  by  roosting  by-sitters. 

It  reminded  him  of  the  gym  meets  of  his 
college,  and  he  felt  quite  a  thrill  of  enthusiasm. 
The  exhibition  began,  and  the  audience  were 
really  interested  and  liberal  in  their  applause, 
particularly  when  Sam  surprised  them  all  by 
his  giant  swing.  Then  the  floor  was  cleared  for 
the  boxing,  and  Sam  ran  downstairs  to  rub  the 
rosin  from  his  hands  before  putting  them  into 
gloves. 

As  he  came  into  the  room,  he  could  scarcely 
believe  his  ears  when  he  heard  Carter  announce 
that  Sam  Randolph,  champion  amateur  light 
heavyweight  of  New  York,  would  have  a  ten- 
round  go  with  Bill  Evans,  champion  heavy 
weight  of  Rockaway  County,  and  as  he  pushed 
through  the  crowd,  thinking  he  must  be  jok 
ing,  he  saw  Bill,  in  sleeveless  shirt,  trousers,  and 
belt,  and  in  his  stockings,  glowering  at  him 
with  a  triumphant  grin.  His  huge  arms  hung 


MIXING  189 

down  and  his  hands  were  incased  in  four-ounce 
gloves. 

Sam  stopped  and  stiffened,  the  blood  rushed  to 
his  face  and  then  receded  slowly,  leaving  his  face 
deadly  white,  but  not  with  fear,  as  the  fiery  glare 
from  his  eyes  showed.  For  a  moment  there  was  a 
murmur  from  the  crowd  and  then  intense  silence 
as  Sam  spoke  in  an  icy  tone  that  showed  meas 
ureless  contempt. 

"Members  of  the  Club,  -- 1  won't  say  gentle 
men,  —  when  I  joined  this  club  I  supposed  I  was 
joining  a  club  composed  of  gentlemen,  and  so  far 
as  I  know  I  have  never  given  any  of  you  any  rea 
son  to  believe  that  I  was  other  than  a  gentleman. 
But  I  see  I  was  mistaken,  and  I  am  sorry.  I  am 
not  a  prize  fighter,  and  I  only  spar  with  my 
friends.  But  I  want  to  say  that  to  try  and  get  me 
here  by  a  trick,  to  fight  for  your  amusement,  is 
about  the  dirtiest  and  most  contemptible  thing  I 
ever  knew.  I  quit  this  club  now,  and  I  don't  care 
to  number  among  my  acquaintances  any  one  of 
you  who  has  been  mixed  up  in  this,"  and  he  threw 
the  gloves  on  the  floor,  and  strode  to  the  dressing- 
room,  leaving  the  crowd  looking  decidedly  un 
comfortable. 

"By  God,  the  young  fellow  is  right,"  said  a 
large  black-haired  man.  "He  is  mad,  all  right, 
but  I  'd  rather  be  in  his  shoes  than  mine.  I  feel  as 
if  I  had  been  caught  stealing." 


190  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"  Aw,  mad !  he 's  scart,  that 's  what 's  the  matter 
with  him,"  said  Bill  angrily,  as  he  pulled  off  his 
gloves  and  threw  them  spitefully  away. 

"Scared!  I  guess  you  don't  know  what  you're 
talking  about.  A  fellow  who  will  stand  up  and 
tell  a  crowd  of  men  what  he  thinks  of  them  as  he 
has  done  is  anything  but  scared.  I  don't  know 
who  put  this  up,  but  if  the  rest  of  you  feel  as  much 
like  a  whipped  cur  as  I  do,  you  won't  feel  very 
much  like  talking  about  it." 

"I  think  it  served  us  just  right,  and  I  swear 
I'm  ashamed  enough  of  it;  and  what's  more, 
we've  lost  the  best  gymnast  and  the  best  fellow 
we  ever  had  in  the  club,"  said  little  Rollins. 

The  crowd,  angry  and  abashed,  slowly  broke 
up,  while  Sam,  going  to  his  room,  wrote  a  long 
letter  to  New  York  in  which  we  may  be  sure  he 
mentioned  no  word  of  the  trouble  that  had  so 
aroused  his  contemptuous  resentment. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    FIGHT 

IT  was  the  latter  part  of  October  and  the  Supe 
rior  Court  was  sitting  in  the  old  Court-House. 
The  Squire,  as  usual,  had  a  good  many  cases  to 
try,  some  of  them  matters  of  a  good  deal  of  im 
portance.  Sam  had  been  able  to  be  of  consid 
erable  assistance  in  preparing  the  cases.  True 
enough  he  was  not  sufficiently  advanced  in  legal 
knowledge  to  do  anything  but  copy  processes 
when  the  stenographer  was  overworked.  But 
he  had  developed  quite  an  aptitude  in  running 
down  witnesses  and  finding  out  what  they  knew 
about  the  cases,  and  had  traveled  about  the  sur 
rounding  towns,  sometimes  on  foot,  but  more 
often  on  horseback  or  behind  one  of  Alvy's  best 
horses. 

This  gave  him  a  welcome  change  from  the 
drudgery  of  office  work,  and  enabled  him  to  see 
the  country  and  become  acquainted  with  the  peo 
ple,  two  things  he  was  very  glad  to  do,  as  he  re 
membered  the  Squire's  advice,  "It  is  as  necessary 
to  know  the  people  as  the  law." 

As  he  had  a  very  pleasant  manner  of  meeting 
strangers,  was  democratic  and  affable,  he  found 


192  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

no  difficulty  in  making  friends  wherever  he  went. 
He  did  find,  however,  among  the  younger  men,  a 
curious  reserve,  in  fact  almost  a  hostility,  which 
he  found  rather  difficult  to  disarm.  This  was  due 
in  part  to  a  very  marked  difference  in  appearance 
and  bearing,  and  almost  as  marked  a  difference 
in  speech  between  him  and  them,  in  which  an  un 
conscious  superiority  was  on  his  side. 

Occasionally  he  was  jeered  at  from  a  safe  dis 
tance  in  the  coarse  way  affected  by  the  lower 
class  of  country  and  town  boys,  who  in  this 
way  resent  the  fancied  superiority  of  city -bred 
youth,  but  he  never  appeared  to  notice  it  unless 
it  became  too  marked  for  comfort,  when  a  pecu 
liarly  steely  glitter  of  his  eye  would  generally  com 
pel  a  respectful  silence. 

On  one  occasion,  as  he  came  out  of  a  telephone 
booth  in  a  country  store  where  a  crowd  of  men 
and  boys  were  loitering  about,  he  found  a  hulking 
youth  of  nineteen  or  twenty  slipping  a  sharp 
stone  under  his  saddle,  and  he  seized  him  by  the 
scruff  of  the  neck  and  the  slack  of  his  overalls, 
rushed  him  despite  his  struggles  to  the  horse 
trough,  and  soused  him  in  until  he  begged  for 
mercy.  This  was  done  with  such  apparent  ease 
that  none  of  the  crowd  dared  interfere,  and  as 
he  quietly  walked  back,  adjusted  his  saddle, 
mounted,  and  rode  off,  there  wras  not  a  word  said. 

With  the  older  men  he  became  popular  and 


THE   FIGHT  193 

with  the  women  and  girls  exceedingly  so,  which 
was  perhaps  an  additional  reason  why  he  found 
the  younger  men  a  bit  difficult. 

Bill  Evans  he  had  persistently  avoided  and  re 
fused  to  notice,  although  he  never  met  him  with 
out  being  insulted,  and  accordingly  not  only  Bill 
and  his  friends,  but  some  of  Sam's  friends  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  Sam  was  afraid  of  Bill. 
But  in  that  they  were  mistaken.  The  idea  of  fear 
had  never  entered  his  mind.  He  was  confident  of 
his  ability  to  thrash  Bill,  but  he  did  not  want  to 
fight  with  any  one,  much  less  a  man  of  Bill's 
standing.  He  had  come  to  the  town  to  study  law 
and  make  his  home  there,  and  he  disliked  exceed 
ingly  the  idea  of  becoming  embroiled  with  any  of 
its  citizens,  however  unworthy  or  however  in  need 
of  a  thrashing. 

And  so  while  he  felt  that  an  encounter  with 
Bill  was  inevitable,  matters  might  have  gone  on 
for  a  long  time  but  for  one  circumstance  that  hap 
pened  as  a  result  of  a  case  in  which  the  Squire 
was  counsel.  It  was  a  suit  against  a  sawmill 
owner  for  wages  due  a  sawyer.  The  case  had  been 
fought  for  an  entire  day  and  had  been  given  to 
the  jury  just  before  the  closing  hour.  Bill  Evans, 
as  a  witness  for  defendant,  had  testified  to  the 
amount  of  lumber  sawed  as  far  below  the  amount 
claimed  by  the  sawyer,  and  on  cross-examination 
by  the  Squire  had  become  involved  in  a  maze  of 


194  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

contradictions,  which  were  made  still  worse  by 
the  testimony  in  rebuttal  of  a  young  surveyor  to 
whom  Bill  had  previously  told  an  entirely  differ 
ent  story. 

As  a  result,  the  Squire  in  his  argument  paid  his 
respects  to  Bill  and  his  testimony  in  rather  more 
than  his  usual  frank,  vigorous,  and  convincing 
way,  and  had  left  poor  Bill  without  a  shred  of 
reputation  as  an  honest  man,  which,  as  he  had 
never  possessed  any,  could  really  have  made  little 
difference  to  him. 

But  Bill  was  mad,  mad  clear  through,  and  not 
daring  to  vent  his  wrath  on  the  Squire,  for  whom 
he  had  a  wholesome  dread  as  a  man  of  the  law,  he 
decided  to  make  things  lively  for  the  surveyor. 

As  a  preparation  for  the  evening's  entertain 
ment,  he  primed  up  on  a  couple  of  glasses  of 
whiskey  at  Nagle's  saloon,  just  enough  to  make 
him  feel  ugly,  without  taking  from  his  perfect 
control  of  himself,  at  least  of  everything  but  his 
ungovernable  temper. 

Sam,  with  his  friend  Ben,  had  come  from  the 
post-office  at  the  lower  end  of  the  street  and  had 
crossed  by  the  Town  Hall,  intending  to  stop  a 
moment  at  the  Rumscott,  where  Sam  was  to  sum 
mon  a  witness  for  a  case  in  which  the  Squire  was 
engaged  and  which  was  for  trial  the  ensuing  day. 
As  he  crossed  the  street  he  met  the  surveyor  com 
ing  from  the  opposite  direction,  and  laughingly 


THE   FIGHT  195 

congratulated  him  on  the  effect  of  his  evidence 
on  that  offered  by  Bill. 

Sam  and  his  friend  had  scarcely  passed  the 
Court-House  when  they  heard  loud  voices  and 
oaths,  and  stopped  to  listen.  Then  Sam  recog 
nized  Bill's  voice  and  then  that  of  the  surveyor. 
Then  the  lie  was  passed  and  there  was  a  blow  and 
a  fall,  and  Sam  rushed  across  the  road  just  in 
time  to  see  the  surveyor  rising  blindly  with  the 
blood  streaming  from  his  face,  to  go  down  again 
heavily  from  a  cruel  blow  in  the  face,  while  his 
arms  were  grasping  the  guard-rail  in  front  of  the 
store. 

In  an  instant  Sam  was  through  the  crowd, 
shouldering  them  right  and  left,  and  had  knelt 
down  in  front  of  the  surveyor,  who  was  nearly 
senseless.  With  Ben's  help  he  raised  him  up  and 
calling  for  water,  sprinkled  his  face  with  it.  In  a 
few  moments  he  revived,  and  then  Sam  turned 
his  attention  to  Bill,  who  stood  there  eyeing  him 
evilly  while  his  rough  companions  gathered  round 
him.  Sam  was  blazing  with  rage,  but  save  for  the 
pallor  of  his  face  and  the  glitter  of  his  eyes  was 
calm. 

Walking  straight  to  Bill  he  said,  "You  miser 
able,  dirty,  drunken,  cowardly  cur,  what  did  you 
strike  that  man  for?" 

"What  in  hell  business  is  it  of  yours?"  said 
Bill,  thrusting  his  face  threateningly  into  Sam's. 


196  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Sam's  reply  was  a  lightning  slap  in  the  face 
that  sounded  "like  the  breaking  of  a  pane  of 
glass,  and  was  followed  by  a  furious  lunge  from 
Bill. 

Sam  ducked  under  Bill's  arm,  caught  him  un 
der  the  arms,  back-heeled,  and  threw  him. 

Bill  scrambled  to  his  feet,  blind  with  fury,  but 
was  seized  and  held  by  his  friends.  "Not  here, 
Bill;  you  can't  fight  here;  come  down  on  the  is 
land." 

Bill  struggled  for  a  moment,  and  then  hoarsely 
said,  "Will  you  fight?" 

"Yes,"  said  Sam  crisply. 

"Come  down  on  the  island  where  we  won't  be 
stopped." 

"All  right,"  said  Sam. 

Instantly  there  was  a  semi-orderly  rush  for  the 
island,  which  was  a  small  square  between  the  two 
lower  bridges. 

Ben  looked  anxious,  but  cheered  up  at  the 
arrival  of  his  friends  the  machinists,  who  would 
see  fair  play. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  island  there  was  al 
ready  a  crowd  there,  and  a  ring  formed  by  sev 
eral  men  who  kept  the  crowd  back. 

As  Sam  approached,  a  large  man  with  a  heavy 
beard  came  forward  and  asked,  "Who  is  your  sec 
ond?" 

"Ben  here,"  said  Sam. 


THE   FIGHT  197 

"What  is  it,  London  prize  rules  or  Queens- 
bury?" 

"London  rules,  a  knockdown  to  close  a  round 
if  the  man  down  wishes  to  take  a  half-minute 
rest,"  said  Sam. 

"  Is  that  all  right,  Bill?  "  said  the  man,  address 
ing  Bill,  who  had  stripped  to  his  shirt  and  was 
rolling  his  sleeves  to  his  shoulders. 

"Yes,"  growled  Bill;  "only  don't  wait  all 
night." 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  said  the  black-bearded 
man,  "this  fight  is  going  to  be  on  the  square. 
The  man  that  strikes  another  while  down  will 
lose  the  fight.  A  knockdown  entitles  the  man 
down  to  a  half-minute  rest.  The  man  who  fails 
to  come  to  the  scratch  in  time  after  the  rest  loses. 
Any  one  who  interferes  with  this  fight  will  have 
me  to  settle  with.  Now,  don't  make  too  much 
noise,  for  we  don't  want  the  police  to  interfere, 
and  they  won't  if  we  run  things  decently.  And 
keep  the  crowd  back.  You  can  all  see  from  the 
rise  in  the  hill,  and  this  moon  makes  it  as  bright 
as  day.  Now,  are  you  ready?" 

"Ready,"  growled  Bill  hoarsely. 

"Ready,"  said  Sam,  who  had  pulled  off  coat 
and  vest,  tightened  his  belt  and  rolled  his  sleeves 
loosely  to  the  elbows. 

Bill  was  huge,  hairy,  and  muscular,  with  bull 
neck  and  heavy  shoulders,  and  vast  tanned  arms 


198  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

and  fists.  Sam  was  more  trimly  built,  but  an  ex 
pert  would  have  noted  that  his  shoulders  were 
fully  as  broad  as  Bill's,  his  chest  deeper,  and  his 
arms  and  legs  those  of  a  trained  athlete,  betoken 
ing  both  strength  and  activity. 

As  they  advanced,  Bill  made  a  savage  rush 
and  fairly  hurled  himself  upon  Sam.  There  was 
a  quick  swaying  of  a  lithe  body,  a  lightning  left 
backed  up  by  the  weight  of  Sam's  body  and  Bill 
went  down  flat  on  his  back  after  a  blundering 
stagger  backwards. 

"Holy  mustard!"  said  Williams,  his  eyes 
standing  out  like  glass  marbles,  "we  thought  he 
couldn't  hit." 

But  he  was  up  in  a  moment,  and  rushed  again, 
swinging  his  arms  like  pistons,  but  exposing  him 
self  to  a  smashing  right  that  brought  him  heels 
up  and  nearly  on  the  back  of  his  huge  neck.  This 
time  Bill  arose  more  slowly,  and  rushing,  clinched, 
and  was  a  third  time  thrown  heavily. 

"Take  the  rest,  Bill,  take  the  rest,  there's  time 
enough,"  yelled  his  friends. 

But  Bill  would  take  no  advice,  and  blindly 
rushing  again,  was  again  floored. 

"  Good  God !  man,"  said  one  fellow.  "  What  do 
you  think  of  that?  Four  times  in  the  first  round. 
Bill  has  got  the  wrong  customer  this  time." 

Bill,  sitting  on  his  second's  knee,  was  showing 
the  effect  of  the  blows.  Blood  was  trickling  from 


THE   FIGHT  199 

his  nose,  one  eye  was  rapidly  swelling,  while  a 
split  lip  dripped  blood  into  his  hairy  chest,  and 
he  was  breathing  heavily. 

Sam  stood  at  ease,  with  his  arms  crossed  be 
hind  his  back,  at  times  nodding  his  head  in  an 
swer  to  his  second's  advice. 

"Time!"  said  the  man  with  the  black  beard, 
and  the  second  round  was  on. 

Bill  advanced  eagerly,  despite  his  punishment. 
One  arm  was  held  across  his  chest,  the  left  play 
ing  in  front  of  him.  Sam's  arms  were  loosely  held 
and  his  hands  half-closed  as  he  circled  lightly. 

"Whoof !"  came  a  mighty  blow  from  Bill,  but 
Sam  was  not  there.  "Smack"  came  a  stinger  on 
Bill's  sore  eye  and  "thump"  a  resounding  blow 
on  his  ribs. 

Bill  could  not  stand  that,  and  rushed,  was 
neatly  avoided,  and  fell  on  his  hands  and  knees. 

'Time!"  said  the  man  with  the  black  beard. 

"Not  by  a  damn  sight,"  said  Bill,  rising,  "I 
fell  down,"  and  gritting  his  teeth  he  set  to 
gamely. 

Then  followed  an  exhibition  of  boxing  such  as 
none  of  them  had  ever  seen  before.  Bill  was  re 
garded  as  a  good  boxer,  but  he  was  almost  help 
less  in  the  hands  of  this  college  man.  Sam  was 
here,  there,  and  everywhere,  ducking,  dodging, 
leading,  and  countering.  He  appeared  to  be  able 
to  hit  from  any  angle  and  where  he  pleased. 


200  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

If  by  chance  any  of  Bill's  blows  landed,  they 
appeared  to  have  no  effect  except  that  they  in 
tensified  the  lightning  quickness  and  vigor  of 
Sam's  counters. 

Occasionally  Bill,  winded  and  blinded  by  the 
shower  of  blows,  pulled  up  bewildered,  and  then 
Sam,  despite  the  frantic  yells  of  his  friends  to  go 
in  and  finish  him,  dropped  his  arms  and  waited. 

"Why  don't  you  finish  him,  Sam?"  said  Ben; 
"you're  throwing  away  chances." 

"Hold  your  horses,  Ben,"  replied  Sam.  "This 
man  needs  a  sound  thrashing  more  than  a  finish. 
I  know  what  I'm  about." 

"Well,  he's  gettin'  it  all  right;  only  don't  take 
too  many  chances, "  said  Ben  gruffly. 

Again  Bill  came  to  the  scratch  with  the  utmost 
gameness,  for  he  was  in  bad  shape.  He  had 
been  knocked  down  a  half-dozen  times  and  had 
been  thrown  heavily  in  a  clinch.  One  eye  was 
closed,  the  other  had  a  cut  under  it  from  which 
the  blood  trickled  down  his  face;  his  nose  was 
swollen  to  twice  its  natural  size,  his  lips  puffed 
out,  and  his  face  a  mass  of  bruises ;  he  was  pant 
ing  heavily  and  his  legs  trembled.  But  in  spite  of 
this  he  advanced  with  a  bulldog  courage  that  was 
admirable. 

This  time  he  held  his  guard  high,  to  protect  his 
damaged  face,  but  lowered  it  with  a  grunt  of  pain 
when  Sam  visited  his  body  and  ribs  with  a  right 


THE   FIGHT  201 

and  left.  Then  Bill  crouched  to  protect  his  body, 
and  guarded  his  head  with  his  huge  outstretched 
arms,  but  Sam  stepped  in  like  a  flash  and  upper- 
cut  him  savagely,  and  the  crowd  held  its  breath 
at  the  smack  and  thud  of  the  blows. 

Then  Bill,  with  a  hoarse  bellow,  rushed  again, 
and  was  sent  down  with  a  right  on  the  swollen 
nose  that  made  sparks  flash  on  a  background  of 
blackness. 

For  a  moment  Bill  lay  there  with  arms  out 
spread,  then  he  slowly  rolled  over  on  his  face  and 
little  by  little  rose  on  one  knee.  Slowly  the  sight 
of  his  remaining  eye  cleared,  and  he  saw  the  ring, 
the  staring  crowd,  Sam  standing  quietly  and  un 
hurt,  and  heard  the  referee  call  "Time!"  Then 
he  heard  one  of  his  friends  call  out  jeeringly, 
"Bill,  Bill,  I  thought  ye  could  fight,"  and  a  loud 
laugh,  and  then  he  went  stark  mad. 

He  reached  in  his  hip  pocket  for  a  knife,  sprung 
it  open,  and  rushed  upon  Sam  like  a  maniac. 

"Look  out  for  him!  He's  got  a  knife!"  yelled 
the  crowd,  and  a  rush  backward  was  made  to 
avoid  him. 

Sam  darted  in,  grasping  the  huge  wrist.  There 
was  a  brief  swaying  of  bodies,  a  flash  of  steel,  a 
wrenching  backward  of  the  hairy  arm,  a  yell  of 
anguish  from  Bill,  and  Sam,  stooping,  picked  up 
the  knife  where  it  had  fallen  and  jerked  it  into 
the  river,  while  Bill  lay  on  his  face  where  he  had 


202  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

fallen,  with  one  arm  doubled  under  him,  and 
weeping  the  gulping  sobs  of  a  humiliated  and 
beaten  man. 

As  Sam  stepped  out  of  the  ring,  his  hands  were 
grasped  by  old  Pat,  who  was  fairly  dancing  for 

joy. 

"Begob,  Misther  Randolph,  if  ever  a  rale  gin- 
tleman  cud  be  a  divil,  y'  are  a  divil  an'  all.  Jam 
Morissey  himself  cud  n't  a  doon  it;  —  yer  anner, 
sor,"  and  Pat,  raising  his  hat,  made  way  for  the 
Senator,  who  advanced  with  due  courtesy  and 
ceremony. 

'Young  man,"  he  said  as  he  grasped  Sam's 
hand,  "on  ordinary  occasions  I  deprecate  the 
employment  of  physical  force  in  the  attainment 
of  success,  but,  sir,  there  are  occasions,  and  this 
is  one  of  them,  sir,  when  discipline  requires  it, 
and  its  use  is  highly  commendable,  highly  com 
mendable,  sir.  Yet,  sir,"  he  continued,  as  Bill's 
sobs  fell  on  his  ear,  "it  has  undoubtedly  been  a 
disappointment  as  well  as  a  surprise  to  our  friend 
William.  It  reminds  me  quite  forcibly  of  the  re 
marks  of  the  poet,  who  says  - 

'  And  wept  like  childhood,  then 
Talk  not  of  tears  till  thou  hast  seen 
The  tears  of  warlike  men  '; 

—  and  I  might  here  remark,  parenthetically,  sir, 
that  William,  although  a  man  of  courage,  sir, 


THE   FIGHT  203 

and  endurance,  is  not — ah,  what  is  commonly 
known  as  a  good  loser." 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Sam,  a  bit  absently  and  with 
a  note  of  anxiety  in  his  voice,  "I  don't  like  to 
hear  a  man  do  that.  I  hope  he  is  n't  hurt  much. 
Bill,"  he  said,  as  he  stepped  to  the  fallen  man, 
"is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you?  —  Come, 
get  up." 

Bill  ceased  his  sobs  for  a  moment.  "  Go  away, 
damn  you,  and  let  me  alone,"  he  said  in  a  choked 
voice. 

Then  Sam  stepped  over  to  where  a  knot  of 
Bill's  friends  stood,  sulkily  eyeing  the  proceed 
ings. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  "that  you  will  look  after 
him,  won't  you?" 

"To  hell  with  him,"  they  growled;  "look  after 
him  yourself.  Damn  a  blubbering  baby  who 
can't  fight." 

Then  Sam's  temper  flared  up  again. 

"  Perhaps  some  of  you  fellows  think  you  can  do 
better,"  he  said  writh  heat.  "If  so,  I  will  accom 
modate  any  of  you  now." 

The  men  muttered,  but  nobody  accepted  his 
invitation,  and  he  turned  to  meet  the  big  man 
with  the  beard,  who  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"I'll  look  after  Bill,"  he  said,  "and  you  had 
better  go  now." 

"All  right,"  said  Sam,  "only  if  you  are  under 


204  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

any  expense,  let  me  know.  I  Ve  nothing  against 
Bill  now.  He  is  a  game  man." 

"All  right,  sir,"  said  the  man,  "I'll  let  you 
know  ";  and  he  went  back  to  Bill,  while  Sam,  ac 
companied  by  Ben  and  his  friends,  went  to  the 
hotel. 

Sam  went  at  once  to  his  room,  took  a  bath,  and 
a  rubdown,  wrote  a  letter,  and  then,  suddenly 
remembering  his  witness,  ran  downstairs  to  at 
tend  to  the  matter,  just  in  time  to  hear  a  familiar 
voice  say,  "A  confounded  shame,  I  say;  Bill's 
hurt,  and  needs  a  doctor,  and  the  fight  was  fair 
and  aboveboard,  and  I  don't  see  any  sense  in  the 
officers  coming  in  now." 

As  Sam  turned  into  the  office,  he  met  the  man 
with  the  black  beard,  who  at  once  came  forward 
angrily.  "Look  here,  Mr.  Randolph,  it  seems  a 
bit  rough  to  have  Evans  pulled  in  after  you  have 
just  licked  him.  Was  n't  it  enough  without 
that?" 

"Pulled  in!"  shouted  Sam;  "what  in  thunder 
do  you  take  me  for?  Certainly  if  he  is  arrested, 
I  ought  to  be." 

'Then  it  was  not  your  doing?"  said  the  man; 
"I  wonder  who  did  it, "  he  said  with  a  puzzled  air. 

"I  have  n't  the  least  idea,  but  the  thing  to  do 
is  to  get  him  out  just  as  soon  as  we  can.  He  ought 
to  go  to  a  doctor  rather  than  spend  the  night  in 
the  lockup.  Come  on!"  and  Sam  seized  his  hat 


THE   FIGHT  205 

and  hurried  down  the  steps,  followed  by  the  man 
with  the  black  beard. 

In  a  few  moments  they  were  at  the  police  sta 
tion,  where  they  found  Mad  in  charge,  and 
learned  from  him  that  the  complaint  had  been 
sworn  to  by  the  young  surveyor  whom  Bill  had 
knocked  down. 

No,  Mad  could  n't  let  him  out.  No,  not  if  Sam 
or  Nichols,  the  man  with  the  black  beard,  would 
be  good  for  his  appearance.  No,  not  even  if  Mr. 
Randolph  put  up  a  cash  bail.  -  -  It  did  n't  make 
a  bit  of  difference  if  Bill  needed  a  doctor.  No,  he 
was  n't  hard,  but  he  knew  his  duty  as  an  officer. 
-  Why,  any  one  ought  to  know  that  he  could  n't 
take  bail.  Why,  Granville  True  once  took  a  gold 
ring  as  bail  for  a  drunk,  and  it  cost  him  his  job 
and  thirty-eight  dollars  and  sixty-two  cents  be 
side.  He  guessed  not  much.  They  could  n't  play 
any  such  a  trick  on  him.  — Well,  perhaps  not,  but 
then  he  was  n't  going  to  take  any  chances,  but  if 
the  Judge  would  say  so,  he  would  let  Bill  out. 

So  Sam  and  Nichols  left  the  station  and  hur 
ried  across  the  two  bridges  to  the  Judge's  house; 
and  after  representing  Bill's  condition,  and  agree 
ing  to  be  personally  responsible  for  his  appear 
ance  in  the  morning,  obtained  from  him  a  note  to 
the  officer  directing  Bill's  release.  Armed  with 
this,  they  sought  the  unrepentant  Mad,  and  were 
rather  grumpily  taken  downstairs  into  Bill's  cell. 


206  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Bill  sat  humped-up  on  his  cot.  His  face  was 
bruised  and  swollen,  and  he  groaned  whenever  he 
moved.  But  he  followed  them  stumblingly  when 
Nichols  told  him  to  come,  and  they  crossed  the 
street  to  Doctor  Berry's  office. 

As  they  entered,  the  Doctor,  a  gray -haired  old 
gentleman,  ushered  them  into  his  office.  As  his 
eyes  fell  upon  Bill,  he  puckered  up  his  lips  and  let 
out  a  whistle. 

"Well,  well,  Bill,"  he  said;  "what  was  it  this 
time,  a  hay  tedder,  a  mowing-machine,  a  steam 
roller,  or  a  freight  car?" 

"A  thrashing-machine,  Doctor,"  said  Bill 
grimly,  with  his  features  grotesquely  puckered 
up  as  he  tried  to  smile,  and  then  he  groaned  and 
cursed  as  the  Doctor  placed  his  hand  on  his  arm. 

"Hello,  what's  wrong  here?"  asked  the  Doctor; 
"anything  broken?" 

"No,  a  twist,  I  guess,"  groaned  Bill. 

Under  the  Doctor's  direction  Sam  and  Nichols 
carefully  took  off  his  coat  and  vest  and  then  tore 
his  shirt  from  the  shoulder,  and  the  Doctor  ex 
amined  it. 

"Shoulder  out;  must  have  had  a  bad  wrench," 
muttered  the  Doctor;  then  to  Sam,  "You  take  his 
arm,  Nichols,  hold  him  round  the  body,  and  when 
I  say  the  word,  pull  hard.  Now!" 

Sam  gave  a  heave,  there  was  a  snap,  an  oath 
from  Bill,  and  the  shoulder  was  back.  Then, 


THE   FIGHT  207 

with  plaster  strips  the  shoulder  was  wound  and 
bandaged,  the  bruised  and  cut  face  treated,  and 
after  an  hour's  work  the  Doctor  told  him  he  would 
do. 

As  they  rose  to  go,  Sam,  who  had  said  nothing 
up  to  this  moment,  asked  the  Doctor  what  his  bill 
was. 

As  Bill  heard  his  voice,  he  started  to  his  feet. 

"What  the  hell  are  you  doing  here?  You 
damned  whelp!"  he  snarled,  facing  him. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Bill,"  said  Nichols.  "Mr. 
Randolph  is  white,  and  has  done  what  he  could 
to  get  you  out." 

"White!  damn  him!"  roared  Bill;  "he'll  be 
black  before  I  Ve  done  with  him.  Take  me  back 
to  the  lockup.  I'll  not  be  under  obligations  to 
him." 

In  vain  Nichols  argued  and  pleaded;  Bill  was 
determined;  but  at  this  point  the  Doctor,  who 
had  stood  quietly  by,  spoke  quickly  and  sharp- 

ly=- 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Bill  Evans,  you'll  do  what  I 
say.  You  go  with  Nichols  wherever  he  tells  you 
to  go  and  you  do  what  he^says.  When  you  get  well 
enough  to  talk  to  the  young  man,  all  right,  but 
not  now.  You  will  need  two  good  arms  and  both 
eyes.  Now,  go,"  and  he  ushered  them  out,  mo 
tioning  Sam  to  remain. 

After  thev  had  left,  he  turned  to  Sam  with  a 


208  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

smile,  and  said,  "What  was  the  trouble,  did  the 
barroom  crowd  get  after  him?" 

And  when  Sam  explained,  he  could  scarcely 
believe  him. 

"Well!  well!  well!"  he  said;  "so  Bill  has  got 
thrashed  at  last.  He  has  needed  it  for  a  long  time. 
Perhaps  it  will  do  him  good ;  there  is  some  good  in 
the  fellow.  He  is  independent,  pays  his  bills,  and 
has  a  kind-hearted  streak  in  him.  Do  you  know," 
he  said,  with  a  shrewd  smile,  "I  shouldn't  be  sur 
prised  to  see  you  and  Bill  good  friends  some  day." 

"I'm  sure  I  hope  so,"  said  Sam,  "I  haven't 
anything  against  him.  He  is  the  gamest  man  I 
ever  stood  up  to,  and  I'd  like  to  help  him  out; 
but  it  don't  look  that  way  now.  He  looks  as  if  he 
would  like  to  poison  me." 

"  Well,  look  out  for  him.  He  is  rough,  but  I  al 
ways  thought  there  was  something  besides  fight 
in  him." 

'There  's  plenty  of  that,"  smiled  Sam. 

"How  does  the  study  go?"  asked  the  Doctor. 

"Pretty  well,"  replied  Sam.  "It  is  interesting, 
and  the  Squire  is  delightful.  I  have  never  seen  a 
man  just  like  him.  He  is  a  constant  surprise  to 
me.  He  has  more  sides  than  any  one  man  I  ever 
knew.  I  am  the  luckiest  fellow  in  the  world  to  be 
associated  with  him,  and  yet  I  am  often  discour 
aged  to  think  how  immeasurably  superior  he  is  to 
what  I  can  ever  hope  to  be." 


THE   FIGHT  209 

"Well,"  said  the  Doctor  soberly, "  a  man  can  be 
far  below  the  Squire  in  every  way  and  still  be  a 
pretty  good  man  and  a  credit  to  his  friends.  That 
is  worth  remembering." 

:'That  is  what  I  frequently  think,  Doctor.  But 
the  Squire  is  such  a  wonderful  man,  I  have  often 
wondered  why  he  stayed  a  country  lawyer.  Do 
you  know?"  asked  Sam. 

''Yes,"  said  the  Doctor  slowly;  "I  know  the 
story,  and  it  is  a  sad  one.  Perhaps  some  day  I 
may  tell  you,  but  not  now.  Very  few  know  it,  and 
only  his  nearest  friends.  If  ever  you  - 

Sam  nodded,  and  after  a  moment  rose.  "I  am 
a  bit  tired  and  quite  a  bit  sore.  One  cannot  fight 
a  grizzly  bear  without  catching  it  a  bit.  You  don't 
fear  any  serious  result  for  Bill,  do  you?" 

"  Not  a  bit,  not  a  bit.  He  will  be  all  right  in  a 
week  or  two.  So  don't  worry  about  that.  Good 
night,"  said  the  Doctor  coming  to  the  door. 

"Good-night,  Doctor,"  called  Sam  as  he  went 
towards  the  hotel. 

"I  wonder  if  he  will  ever  know  the  story?" 
mused  the  Doctor,  closing  the  door  and  putting 
up  the  chain.  "  I  suppose  that  there  has  not  lived 
a  more  heart-hungry  and  lonesome  old  fellow 
than  the  old  Squire.  I  only  hope  this  young  chap 
will  get  near  him.  None  of  the  rest  of  us  have." 


CHAPTER  XII 

TOWN    MEETING 

THE  decisive  result  of  the  fight  with  Bill  Evans 
effectually  reestablished  Sam  in  the  esteem 
in  which  he  had  been  held  by  the  gymnasium 
crowd,  which  esteem  he  had  lost  by  his  abrupt 
withdrawal  from  the  club  and  his  contemptuous 
refusal  to  again  become  a  member. 

It  was  very  interesting  to  see  just  how  many 
young  men  there  were  who  had  about  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  high  time  for  some  one  to 
take  Bill  in  hand,  you  know,  and  that  if  Sam  had 
n't  done  it  at  just  the  time  he  did,  they  should 
have  done  it.  And  that  in  future  Bill  would  do 
well  to  remember  that  he  would  be  called  to  a 
strict  accounting  for  his  deeds  and  words. 

So  many  of  the  young  chaps  about  town  con 
gratulated  Sam  on  his  success,  but  politely  re 
gretted  that  he  had  taken  the  job  out  of  their 
hands,  that  Sam  was  quite  mystified,  and  could 
not  account  for  their  long  forbearance  in  the  face 
of  so  many  indignities  suffered  from  this  same 
Bill. 

Meeting  Nichols  on  the  street  one  day  and  in 
quiring  for  Bill,  he  mentioned  the  matter  to  him. 


TOWN  MEETING  211 

"Rot!"  said  Nichols  explosively.  "There 
was  n't  a  man  of  them  that  dared  to  'peep '  when 
ever  Bill  was  round.  Now,  when  you've  licked 
him,  they  all  come  around  to  blow  and  brag  and 
say  what  they  were  going  to  do.  Huh!  it  makes 
me  tired  to  hear  them.  You  get  a  man  down  and 
there  are  plenty  to  jump  on  him,  but  all  the  same, 
if  they  think  Bill  is  down  for  good  they  have  got 
another  bet  on  it.  You  listen  to  me,  Mr.  Ran 
dolph,  as  soon  as  Bill  gets  round  again,  some  of 
these  amateur  pugs  and  fresh  Alecs  are  going  to 
get  theirs.  The  first  man  that  picks  a  row  with 
Bill  will  get  a  mighty  good  licking.  Bill  will  be  as 
good  as  ever  in  a  couple  of  weeks." 

'Then  he  is  all  right.  I'm  mighty  glad  of 
that,"  said  Sam.  "I  suppose  he  is  still  as  surly  as 
a  bear?" 

"Surly!  you  bet  he  is.  More  like  a  bulldog 
with  his  paw  in  a  trap,  ready  to  bite  any  one. 
Swears  he  wrill  lick  you  some  day  if  he  has  to 
train  for  a  year.  I  told  him  he  might  as  well  give 
up  that  idea,  for  he  could  n't  lick  you  in  a  life 
time,  but  he  swears  he  will.  But  I  guess  you 
need  n't  worry,"  said  Nichols,  smiling. 

"Oh,  I'm  not  worrying,  and  when  I  was  a 
young  chap  I  should  have  liked  nothing  better. 
But  I  must  study  hard  for  the  next  three  years, 
and  I  can't  spare  any  energy  for  fighting  and  get 
ting  stirred  up  for  a  week  or  more.  But  if  Bill  and 


A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

I  have  to  fight  it  out  again,  it  will  be  a  much 
shorter  fight  than  our  first,  I  can  tell  you  that.  I 
had  much  rather  be  his  friend  and  have  him  mine. 
I  have  considerable  respect  for  Bill  at  bottom, 
but  I  won't  fool  with  him  another  time,"  said  Sam, 
with  a  snap  of  his  jaw. 

"Well,  it 's  funny,  but  I  think  Bill  has  a  good 
deal  of  respect  for  you.  But  don't  you  see,  man? 
You  've  licked  him,  and  he  has  been  the  champion 
bull  terrier  round  here  for  years.  It  meant  a  good 
deal  to  him.  -  -  Well,  Mr.  Randolph,  I  must  be 
going.  Glad  to  see  you  at  any  time  up  at  the 
mill,"  said  Nichols  as  he  stepped  into  his  muddy 
wagon  and  drove  off. 

Sure  enough,  Nichols's  prediction  in  regard  to 
Bill  came  true,  for  when  after  a  couple  of  weeks' 
retirement,  Bill  came  on  the  street,  Loomis 
picked  a  fight  with  him  and  was  most  thoroughly 
beaten,  and  thereafter  Bill,  with  his  reputation 
somewhat  reestablished,  was  let  severely  alone 
and  began  steady  work  at  Nichols's  sawmill. 

At  Alvy's  we  may  be  sure  that  the  fight  was 
discussed  in  the  most  weighty  and  conclusive 
fashion.  At  the  first  call  to  arms  the  entire  crowd 
of  loungers  had  vacated  their  seats  in  the  office 
with  most  delightful  unanimity.  Unfortunately 
for  old  Allison  Hamlin,  in  attempting  to  arise  he 
had  gone  over  backwards  with  an  appalling  bump 
of  his  poor  old  head  on  the  hard  floor,  but  with 


TOWN  MEETING  213 

the  timely  assistance  of  Newt  and  Charles,  he 
had  regained  his  feet  and  hobbled  to  the  scene  of 
the  conflict  in  time  to  see  the  greater  part  of  it. 
At  its  conclusion  they  returned  to  the  hotel  and 
prevailed  on  Alvy  to  "set-'em-up  just  once," 
which  Alvy  did  with  a  graciousness  and  a  readi 
ness  quite  unusual.  He  drove  a  roaring  trade  in 
ardent  spirits  that  evening,  as  did  the  Major, 
Nolan,  the  Hole-in-the-Wall,  and  other  well- 
known  saloons. 

Fight  talk  was  the  regular  order  of  exercise 
in  all  the  hotel  corridors,  barrooms,  saloons,  bar 
ber  shops,  pool  and  billiard  parlors,  and  in  no 
place  was  reminiscence  more  exclusively  indulged 
in  than  around  Alvy's  railway  stove. 

"By  mighty!  Hazen,"  said  old  Allison  Hamlin, 
struggling  with  frightful  grimaces  to  bite  off  a 
chew  of  tobacco  by  thrusting  a  plug  of  Navy  up 
under  his  left  ear  where  he  had  a  few  fangs  left, 
"  'minds  me  of  a  fight  I  hed  with  a  feller  't  worked 
in  th'  old  pipe  shop.  I  wuz  a  pretty  peart-like 
feller  in  them  days,  'baout  ez  spry  as  yeou  make 
'em.  Lessee,  thet  wuz  nigh  outer  sixty  years  ago. 
This  feller  wuz  an  Englishman,  'n'  wuz  reckoned 
sum  punkins  in  the  ring.  Wa-a-al,"  added  the  old 
man,  rolling  his  quid  thoughtfully,  "we  hed  a 
tarnal  jaw  'baout  suthin'  'n'  Jem  he  hit  me,  'n' 
afore  any  one  could  interfere,  I  hed  knocked  him 
daoun  ole  Eph  Butler's  saloon  steps.  Jem  he  wuz 


214  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

stunted,  'n'  I  wuz  a  bit  oneasy  in  my  mind  for 
fear  I'd  killed  him.  But  Jem  he  kum  to  arter 
a  while  'n'  vaoued  he'd  lick  me  'f  it  tuk  a  year. 
Jem  he  was  n't  fit  fer  nuthin'  fer  a  while.  Gosha- 
mighty!  I  must 'a'  hit  him  a  tunker;  hoa-g-g-g! 
p'tu!"  and  old  Allison  spat  with  deadly  accuracy 
into  the  glowing  stove. 

"Wa-a-1,"  he  continued,  "'baout  thet  time,  't 
wuz  long  'baout  alewife  time,  'n'  the  river  wuz 
jest  a-bilin'  with  'em,  'n'  I  gut  an  almighty  cold 
a-ketchin'  on  'em,  'n'  hed  a  long  spell  er  lung- 
fever  which  left  me  thinner  'n  a  gutted  herrin'  'n' 
weaker  'n  skim  milk.  So,  mind  ye,  Jem  he 
thought 't  would  be  a  good  time  ter  git  a  swat  at 
me,  —  p'tu!  Wa-a-1,  one  day  I  wuz  a  pokin'  aout 
in  the  square  'baout  sundaoun  'n'  I  met  up  with 
Jem,  'n'  I  see  suthin'  was  goin'  ter  happen. 
Wa-a-a-1,  Jem,  --  p'tu,  --he  gimme  a  root  off  en 
the  sidewalk,  'n'  I  did  n't  say  nothin',  only  jest 
peeled,  'n'  Jem  he  peeled  tew,  right  in  front  er  the 
taoun  hall,  —  hoa-a-a-g!  p'tu!  That  ornery  cuss 
wuz  the  beatinest  feller  to  hop  raotin,  he  jest  got 
raoun  quicker  'n  all  gitaout,  jelluk  this  'ere  New 
York  feller  in  the  Squire's  offis.  'N'  he  cud  hit, 
tew,  but  I  jest  took  what  he  give  'n'  onct  in  a 
while  I  would  get  in  an  almighty  tunker  in  the 
head  or  a  sidewinder  in  Jem's  ribs.  Wa-a-1,  ter 
come  at  it,  we  fit  more  'n  tew  hour,  'n'  when  Jem 
could  n't  come  ter  th'  scratch  they  'cided  I  licked 


TOWN  MEETING  215 

him.  Wa-a-1,  I  wuz  so  used  up  when  I  gut 
through,  'cause  I  wuz  sicker  'n  pizen  when  I  fit, 
that  I  did  n't  know  nothin'  for  more  'n  a  week." 
'  'N'  have  n't  knowed  but  dummed  little  ever 
since,"  growled  old  Kin  Flanders  in  an  aside. 

"Hey!  wassat  ye  say?"  demanded  old  Allison 
quickly,  glowering  at  him  fiercely. 

"I  said  't  wuz  a  dummed  good  fight,  Allison," 
yelled  Kin.  "Beats  hell  haou  thet  dummed  old 
deef  cuss  kin  hear  when  ye  don't  want  him  ter," 
he  continued  in  a  husky  whisper. 

"What  became  of  Jem?"  asked  Alvy  from  the 
desk,  where  he  was  totting  up  accounts. 

"Hey,  wassay5"  said  Allison  with  his  hand  to 
his  ear. 

"\Yhat  became  of  Jem?"  yelled  Alvy. 

"Oh,  yes,  Jem,  —  wa-1,  Jem  he  went  away  ar- 
ter  he  got  well  enough.  He  wuz  perty  sick  fer 
quite  a  spell,  —  p'tu." 

"W7haddier  yeou  say  to  that  for  a  ole  buster  of 
a  lie?  Th'  dummed  old  dried  apple,  th'  only  thing 
he  could  lick  is  the  butt  end  of  a  stogy  thet  sum 
mon  hed  gin  'im,"  growled  Kin  in  a  hoarse  aside. 

"  By  tripe ! "  said  old  Henry  Van  Duzee,  a  weaz 
ened  little  man  with  thin  gray  hair,  mild  and 
somewhat  mildewed  blue  eyes,  wearing  a  much 
frayed  and  discolored  greenish  brown  suit,  an  old 
gray  coat  with  a  velvet  collar  shiny  with  grease, 
and  broken-down  shoes  partly  protected  by  new 


216  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

and  astonishingly  shiny  rubbers  of  which  he  was 
extremely  proud.  "By  Crimmeny!  'minds  me  of 
a  fight  I  had  onct  daoun  ter  Oceanbrook.  Ye 
kneau  them  Oceanbrook  fellers  travels  in  gangs 
jelluk  wolfs.  'F  they  gits  a  feller  daoun,  's  all  up 
with  him,  'cept  there  wuz  one  feller,"  and  old 
Henry  smiled  meaningly  and  shook  his  head. 

"Wai,  what  abaout  it,  Henery,  whadjer  dew?" 
demanded  old  Abel  Scudder  testily. 

"Dew!  Abel,  I  fit  'em,  a  haffer  dozen  on  'em; 
driv  'em,  tew,  arter  fitin'  'em  more  'n  tew  hours 
with  a  sprained  ankle  'n'  a  bone  bruk  in  my  lef 
wrist.  When  they  faoun'  they  could  n't  lick  me, 
they  run  like  whiteheads.  Arter  thet  I  never  hed 
no  trouble  in  Oceanbrook." 

"I  be  goldurned  'f  he  aint  a  bigger  liar  'n  old 
Allison.  'N'  thet's  sayin'  a  good  deal,"  growled 
Kin  Flanders  again;  and  there  was  silence  while 
they  smoked  and  spat  and  Alvy  hemmed  and 
hawed  and  made  careful  entries  in  his  ledger. 

Finally,  Newt  removed  his  pipe,  tapped  it  up 
ended  on  his  palm,  placed  it  in  his  vest  pocket, 
crossed  his  legs,  and  said  slowly:  - 

"Boys,  I  never  was  much  of  a  fighter  with  my 
fists,  although  I  have  done  some  of  that  in  my 
day,  nor  with  my  mouth.  I  never  broke  a  bone  in 
my  arm  after  fighting  six  men,  'n'  never  fit  two 
hours  like  old  Allison  here.  If  I  managed  to  lick 
one  man  at  a  time,  I  thought  I  was  pretty  lucky. 


TOWN   MEETING  217 

But  when  President  Lincoln  sent  out  his  call  for 
seventy-five  thousand  men,  I  'nlisted,  and  I  saw 
some  fighting,  too,  as  was  fighting.  I  have 
marched  through  a  hail  of  minie  balls  in  front  of 
the  intrenchments  when  my  brave  companions 
were  falling  about  me  like  flies  in  a  frost,  and  I 
never  knew  what  fear  was.  I  have  lain  at  night 
in  the  intrenchments  watching  the  shells  from  the 
mortars  in  the  enemy's  batteries  exploding  in 
our  ranks,  and  I  never  knew  what  fear  was.  I 
have  marched  with  my  decimated  regiment 
straight  up  the  hill  to  the  rebel  batteries,  while 
cannon  shot,  shrapnel,  canister,  chain  shot,  and 
grape  tore  great  holes  in  our  lines,  and  I  never 
knew  - 

Newt's  voice  here  trailed  into  silence  and  his 
face  took  on  a  most  discomfited  expression  as  he 
gazed  spellbound  at  a  slim,  wiry,  sharp-nosed, 
vinegary  woman  in  spectacles  who  entered  dur 
ing  his  oration. 

"  Newt  Caswell !  yeou  lazy,  goo-fer-nuthin*  crit 
ter,  yeou  march  yourself  straight  aouter  this  gin- 
mill,  'n'  see  if  you  hev  got  sprawl  enough  to  split 
me  some  wood,  stidder  sittin'  raoun'  here  gassin' 
with  a  wuthless  gang  o'  rummies.  Neaow,  start 
yer  boots!"  she  shrilled  with  a  voice  that  rose 
almost  to  a  shriek. 

"Yes,  mother,  yes,  right  away,  comin',  mo 
ther,  comin',"  said  Newt,  pacifically,  struggling 


218  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

to  his  feet  and  following  the  virago  through  the 
door. 

"By  Godfrey,"  said  Kin,  "Newt  would  ha' 
been  a  hero  'f  he'd  stayed  aout  there,  but  he 
kera  home  to  suthin'  wuss  'n  bumshells  'n'  mus 
ket  balls." 

"H'm,"  said  old  Allison  reflectively;  "some 
women  is  wuss  'n  tarnation  wil'cats.  'Gang  er 
rummies'!  'F  she  wuz  my  wife,  I'd  larn  her 
suthin'." 

"I  guess,  Allison,  if  she  wuz  your  wife  yeou  'd 
dew  'baout  ez  she  said,"  drawled  Alvy. 

"B'goshamighty!  I  guess  you're  right,  Alvy. 
I  swanny  ye  be,"  he  replied,  and  for  a  while  no 
thing  was  heard  but  the  puff  of  pipes  and  the 
sizzle  of  nicotine  in  the  stems. 

After  a  while  old  Allison  removed  his  pipe, 
changed  his  legs,  and  spoke  philosophically  and 
with  conviction.  "Do  yeou  knaow,  Abel,  that  a 
dummed  cranky,  ill-tempered  woman  like  Newt's 
wife  there  is  responsible  for  more  'n  haff  the  devil 
ment  in  the  world.  'Member  when  Newt  kem 
back  from  the  war?  Likely  lookin'  feller,  wa'n't 
he?  Did  n't  drink,  smoked  some,  but  did  n't 
chew.  Good  workman,  good  blacksmith,  and 
never  aout  o'  a  job.  Aimed  good  money.  Then 
the  poor  dummed  critter  met  up  with  Mariar 
Higgins,  'n'  Mari,  she  was  a  good  gal,  tew,  'n'  ole 
Deekin  Higgins,  her  dad,  was  a  good  man,  but  'f 


TOWN   MEETING  219 

Newt  ud  had  any  sense  at  all  he'd  a  knowed  ole 
Deekin  was  the  tarnalest  ole  henpecked  cuss  in 
this  world." 

"What'd  that  gotter  do  with  it?"  asked  Kin. 

"That?  Why,  everything  ter  do  with  it.  Mari 
was  the  very  spit  of  her  marm,  old  Althusy,  'n' 
although  she  had  n't  begun  on  Newt  then,  't  was 
in  the  critter,  'n'  Newt  had  aught  to  have  seen  it. 
Wa-a-1,  Newt  he  up  'n'  married  her,  'n'  't  wa'n't 
long  afore  she  begun  on  him.  Did  n't  want  him 
to  go  daoun  taoun  withaout  tellin'  on  her  where 
he  wuz  goin',  'n'  wha'  fer.  Raised  a  tarnation 
rumpus  'f  Newt  went  inter  a  saloon.  Allers  tellin' 
him  haow  hard  she  worked  'n'  haow  little  she 
got  aouter  it.  Never  wanted  Newt  ter  bring  any 
body  hum  ter  dinner  or  supper,  'n' was  allus  a-fol- 
lerin'  him  abaout  with  a  dus'pan  or  a  clothes 
bresh,  'n'  made  him  take  off  his  boots  'n'  rubbers 
'n  the  porch,  'n'  would  hide  his  hat  when  he  left 
it  on  a  cheer  or  summers  else  than  on  the  hanger- 
up.  Then  Newt  wus  allers  a  master  hand  for  pets. 
When  he  wuz  a  boy  he  had  flyin'  squir'ls,  'n' 
paouter  doves,  'n'  boberlinks,  'n'  white  mice,  'n' 
rabbits,  'n'  young  hen-hawks,  'n'  crows,  'n'  all 
sorts  er  dummed  things,  'n'  allers  hed  a  dawg  er 
some  kind.  Naow,  them  things  did  n't  hurt  no 
body,  'n'  Newt  he  allers  sot  considerable  store  by 
'em,  'n'  they  kep'  'im  aouter  mischief.  I  tell  yer 
a  young  feller  full  er  jump  'n'  ginger  's  gotter  ha' 


220  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

suthin'  ter  take  up  his  time,  'n'  mos'  ginerly 
suthin'  he  likes,  tew,  or  he  won't  pay  no  'tintion 
to  it.  Wa-a-1,  M'ri  would  n't  ha'  none  er  them 
dewin's  raoun'  her  place.  Newt  he  declared  he 
would,  'n'  he  tried  his  dummedest,  'n'  M'ri  she 
chased  his  hens,  'n'  let  aout  his  birds,  'n'  mice, 
'n'  rabbits, 'n'  all  the  time  she  was  a  naggin',and 
er  naggin,'  an  'er  jawin'  an'  er  findin'  fault  with 
this  'n'  thet  'n'  t'other,  'n'  bimeby  Newt  he  gin 
up.  He  said  *  anything  fer  peace,'  but  like  the  ora 
tor  in  the  readin'  book  there  wa'n't  no  peace,  'n' 
then  Newt  he  tuk  ter  drink  an'  ter  loafin' raoun', 
'n'  -  -  wa-a-1,  look  at  him  naow !  looks  jelluk  an 
old  tramp,  'n'  sarved  her  right.  Ole  Deekin  he 
tuk  to  religion  'n'  loafin'  raoun',  'n'  his  wife  she 
tuk  ter  the  washtub,  'n'  Newt  he  tuk  ter  licker  'n' 
loafin,  'n'  M'ri  tuk  ter  plain  sewin'  'n'  settin'  up 
with  dead  folks  'n'  scrubbin'  floors,  'n'  sarved 
Althusy  'n'  M'ri  jes'  right;  but  it  clean  spiled 
Deekin  'n'  Newt.  The  Deekin  he  died  fust,  an'  ef 
ther  's  any  herearter  I  hope  he  had  a  good  rest 
where  't  wuz  quiet  'n'  peaceful.  Althusy  she  died, 
tew,  'n'  't  wuz  a  dummed  good  riddance.  Newt 
he  hain't  died  yet,  but  I  guess  he  wished  he  hed 
'baout  a  hunnerd  times.  So  she  called  us  a  'gang  o' 
rummies,'  did  she?  Wa-a-1,  p'r'aps  we  be,  but 
lemme  tell  ye  this,  boys.  Whenever  ye  see  a 
craowd  er  fellers  like  we  be,  a-sittin'  raoun  a  bar 
room  er  hotel  offis,  'f  ye  'quire  inter  it  ye  '11  find 


TOWN   MEETING  221 

'n  nine  times  aouter  ten  thet  more'n  tew  thirds 
of  'em  is  driv  there  by  some  dummed  fool  woman 
with  more  tongue  than  sense,  who  won't  let  'em 
take  any  comfort  to  hum.  B'goshamighty!" 

And  the  assemblage  broke  up  slowly  and 
thoughtfully. 

In  March  following,  Sam  had  the  opportunity 
to  see  his  first  country  town  meeting,  and  was 
very  much  scandalized  to  see  one  man,  whose 
moral  character  was  a  disgrace  to  the  community, 
elected  to  an  office,  and  he  could  n't  understand  it 
or  reconcile  it  with  his  ideas  of  decency  that  the 
nominating  speech  was  made  by  a  man  promin 
ent  in  business,  and  particularly  so  in  church 
affairs.  Indeed,  his  first  impulse  was  to  make  a 
vigorous  speech  in  opposition,  but  he  remem 
bered  that  he  was  not  yet  a  voter,  although  he 
had  resided  the  necessary  length  of  time  in  the 
town  to  qualify  as  a  citizen. 

He  listened  with  great  attention  to  the  argu 
ments  on  the  appropriations,  which  seemed  to 
call  for  more  discussion  than  anything.  He  was 
greatly  interested  in  the  admirably  conservative 
remarks  of  several  old  gentlemen  from  the  sub 
urbs,  who  made  really  excellent  speeches  in  oppo 
sition  to  certain  proposed  expenditures  that  they 
termed  unnecessary,  extravagant,  and  ill-judged, 
and  indignant  at  the  want  of  respect  manifested 


222  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

by  the  younger  element,  most  of  whom,  paying 
nothing  but  a  poll-tax,  were  in  favor  of  anything 
in  the  line  of  expense  that  promised  a  change 
from  the  old,  and  who  in  several  vigorous 
speeches  ridiculed  the  "old-fogy,"  out-of-date, 
and  obstructionist  ideas  of  these  conservative 
speakers. 

However,  in  two  instances  they  came  to  grief 
in  what  seemed  to  Sam  a  very  amusing  manner.  In 
the  first  instance  the  question  was  upon  the  ap 
propriation  of  a  sufficient  sum  to  purchase  a  new 
steam  fire-engine,  and  the  young  and  self-styled 
progressive  element  favored  the  appropriation  as 
an  absolute  necessity,  while  old  William  Bonner 
and  old  Jarvis  McDougal,  two  bewhiskered  and 
most  sturdy  and  respectable  citizens,  fought 
against  the  appropriation  with  the  greatest  vigor 
and  good  sense,  as  it  seemed  to  Sam.  But  the 
fight  was  going  against  them,  when,  after  a  most 
fiery  speech  of  denunciation  of  the  "mummified 
opinions"  and  "obsolete  1812"  ideas,  by  the 
young  cashier  of  the  Rockaway  Bank,  who  was 
the  leader  of  the  younger  element,  Captain  Hil 
ton  rose  with  much  deliberation,  bowed  to  the 
moderator  as  he  addressed  him,  and  when  he  was 
recognized  by  that  functionary,  turned  to  the 
meeting  and  said  with  great  dignity:  - 

"Gentlemen  and  legal  voters  of  the  town  of 
Elmtown,  I  have  listened  with  vast  interest  to 


TOWN  MEETING  223 

the  comprehensive  and  eloquent  addresses  of  the 
gentlemen  who  have  preceded  me,  and  my  inter 
est  in  the  subject  under  —  ah  —  discussion  is 
such  as  to  prompt  me  to  —  ah --inflict  my 
views  upon  you  as  a  body  corporate." 

"Fwat  th'  divil  is  that?"  whispered  Patrick 
Cassidy  to  his  friend,  Jim  Henessey,  the  saloon 
keeper. 

"Gentlemen,"  continued  the  speaker,  "I  re 
verence  and  admire  a  steam  fire-engine,  I  love  its 
red  wheels,  I  marvel  at  its  glittering  brasses,  I 
am  —  ah  —  lost  in  wonder  at  its  most  unearthly 
and  yet  not  unmusical  shriek,  at  the  hiss  of  its 
escaping  steam  in  the  few  instances  in  the  past 
when  our  unrivaled  and  ever-ready  department 
have  been  able  to  get  up  steam  on  our  present 
machine ;  I  can  never  sufficiently  admire  the 
gallant  struggles  of  our  noble  horses  but  recently 
detached,  or  —  ah  —  unhooked  from  the  various 
hacks  or  dump  carts  they  have  graced,  as  they 
dash  madly  along  followed  by  our  red-shirted 
and  crimson-belted  firemen.  And  yet,  gentle 
men,  notwithstanding  our  delight  in  the  pictur 
esque  splendor  of  the  scene,  we  should  consider, — 
we  should  consider,  gentlemen,  whether  it  would 
not  be  better  to  wait  a  while  until  we  feel  sure 
that  our  firemen  are  sufficiently  conversant  with 
the  internal  workings  of  the  old  machine  so  that 
their  repeated  fiascos  in  the  past  —  I  refer  to  the 


A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Works  fire,  when  after  a  long  run  they  arrived  at 
the  fire  without  the  hose;  to  the  mill  fire,  when 
after  getting  up  steam  they  found  both  nozzles 
had  been  sent  to  the  repair  shop ;  to  another  and 
more  recent  occasion,  when  they  forgot  to  take 
the  suction  hose  —  will  not  be  repeated.  Gentle 
men,"  and  here  his  voice  rang  out  like  a  speaking- 
trumpet,  "if  our  firemen  can't  manage  one  en 
gine  intelligently,  how,  in  the  name  of  kind 
Heaven  and  common  sense,  can  they  expect  to 
manage  two?  I  hope  that  the  measure  may  not 
pass." 

There  was  a  tumult  of  cheering,  and  upon  an 
aye  and  nay  vote  the  measure  was  overwhelm 
ingly  rejected. 

Likewise,  when  a  motion  for  the  appropriation 
of  one  thousand  dollars  for  a  new  hearse,  which 
was  stated  by  the  moderator  to  have  been  in 
serted  in  the  warrant  on  petition  of  Bradbury  V. 
Pettengill  and  nineteen  others,  Newt  C  as  well 
rose  with  some  difficulty,  and,  holding  on  to  the 
seat  in  front  of  him,  and  weaving  slightly,  said 
with  much  dignity,  "  Mis'er  —  hie ! — Mor-r-ter." 

"  Mr.  Newton  Caswell,"  replied  the  moderator, 
smiling. 

' '  Mis'er  Mor-r-ter,  I  move  that  we — hie — take 
Bradbury  V.  Pettengill  and  his  nineteen  others  and 
bury  him  so  damn  deep  that  they — hie — won't 
need  the  services  of  a  —  hie  —  hearse  or  anything 


TOWN  MEETING  225 

else  till  —  hie — Judgment  Day,"  and  Newt  sat 
down  looking  very  stern  and  virtuous. 

"Second  the  motion!"  yelled  a  bystander. 

"It  is  moved  and  seconded  that  this  article  be 
indefinitely  postponed,"  said  the  moderator, 
with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "Is  the  meeting  ready 
for  the  question?" 

"Question!  Question!"  shouted  several. 

"Mr.  Moderator!"  shouted  Mr.  Pettengill. 

"Mr.  Pettengill,"  said  the  moderator. 

Then  there  was  a  tumult  of  voices,  "Sit  down!" 
"Question!"  "Question!" 

The  moderator  pounded  with  his  gavel. 

"Mr.  Moderator!"  pealed  out  a  great  voice, 
and  the  Senator  rose. 

"Senator  Hilton,"  said  the  moderator,  and 
there  was  instant  silence. 

"Mr.  Moderator,  and  gentlemen,"  said  the 
Senator.  "In  all  parliamentary  bodies  I  have 
known,  it  is  a  man's  inherent  right  to  be  courte 
ously  heard  and  I  wish  to  remind  you  that  Mr. 
Pettengill  has  the  floor,  and,"  he  added,  smiling, 
"to  remind  him  that  in  the  words  of  the  immor 
tal  Shakespeare  somewhat  paraphrased  by  our 
worthy  friend,  Mr.  Caswell,  — 

'  We  have  come  to  bury  Csesar  not  to  praise  him.'  " 

There  was  a  shout  of  laughter  and  cries  for  Mr. 
Pettengill.  But  Mr.  Pettengill  refused  to  speak 
and  the  article  was  indefinitely  postponed. 


226  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Sam  also  noticed  a  sample  of  the  curious 
antipathy  towards  a  person  not  a  native  of  the 
town.  In  a  heated  argument  between  old  Jarvis 
McDougal  and  a  man  named  Anderson,  McDou- 
gal  asserted  that  Anderson  was  a  newcomer  and 
ought  to  keep  quiet  about  matters  of  which  he 
knew  nothing. 

"Newcomer!  I  have  lived  here  twenty-two 
years,"  yelled  Anderson. 

"And  I  have  lived  here  seventy -eight  years," 
retorted  old  Jarvis  triumphantly,  amid  cheers. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A   VISITOR 

HE  April  Term  of  the  Superior  Court  had 
come  and  gone.  The  Squire  had  tried  many 
cases,  and  Sam,  who  had  listened  and  taken 
notes,  and  interviewed  witnesses,  had  appreci 
ated  more  than  ever  the  tact,  courtesy,  and  pro 
fessional  technique  of  the  Squire  in  his  relations 
with  the  presiding  judge  and  his  professional 
brethren;  his  searching  cross-examinations  of 
witnesses,  his  quiet,  comprehensive  openings 
and  his  masterly  arguments.  There  were  other 
lawyers  of  signal  ability,  some  sound  as  lawyers, 
some  brilliant  as  orators,  some  ingenious  and 
shrewd,  but  none  so  thoroughly  combining  these 
talents  as  the  Squire. 

May  and  June  had  come  and  gone,  and  July 
was  half  over,  and  Sam  was  still  in  the  office  and 
still  hard  at  work.  He  had  managed  to  save 
money  enough  to  buy  him  a  canoe  and  spent 
most  of  his  spare  time  on  the  river.  Sometimes 
alone,  but  often  with  Polly  curled  up  in  the  bow, 
staring  delightedly  at  every  bird,  weed,  frog, 
flower,  or  fish  she  saw,  and  listening  intently 
while  Sam  told  her  stories  of  fishing  and  hunting 


228  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

on  the  lakes  and  in  the  woods.  They  still  rode 
horseback,  but  only  occasionally,  because  in  this 
town  summer,  the  beach  season,  was  the  hay 
making  season  for  stablemen,  and  Alvy  had  few 
horses  that  needed  breaking  and  Sam  did  not  feel 
rich  enough  to  hire  saddle-horses. 

Sam  was  thinner  than  he  was  the  year  before, 
thinner  and  harder  and  browner,  and  in  far  better 
condition.  His  mind  had  thriven  on  the  hard 
intellectual  work  he  had  done,  and  his  body  had 
strengthened  by  exercise,  regular  hours,  whole 
some  food,  and  freedom  from  worry.  Worry,  • — 
he  had  not  had  time  for  that,  he  had  so  many  in 
terests.  He  was  in  love  with  the  office,  the  Squire, 
and  the  fascinating  round  of  duties  there.  He 
liked  the  town  and  the  people  and  was  fast  mak 
ing  friends,  and  he  loved  little  Polly  like  an  elder 
brother;  and  she,  while  she  looked  upon  him  as  a 
hero  possessed  of  every  virtue,  held  herself  quite 
aloof  from  him  as  became  a  prim  little  lady  of 
gentle  birth. 

Indeed,  a  few  weeks  before,  something  dreadful 
had  happened  between  them  which  had  caused 
her  many  tears  and  had  caused  Sam  great  sur 
prise,  some  amusement,  and  some  very  remorseful 
feelings.  They  had  been  riding  one  evening,  and 
when  they  returned,  Sam  lifted  her  off  her  pony, 
while  the  Squire,  paper  in  hand,  sat  smiling  at 
them  from  the  piazza.  Polly's  hair  was  curling  in 


A   VISITOR  229 

little  tendrils  around  her  forehead  and  ears,  her 
face  was  flushed,  and  her  eyes  bright  with  pleas 
ure,  and  Sam,  thinking  what  a  lovable  child  she 
was,  lifted  her  from  her  pony,  held  her  high  in 
the  air  a  moment  as  one  holds  a  child,  kissed 
her,  and  set  her  lightly  on  the  steps. 

Quick  as  a  flash,  as  he  stood  with  his  head  on  a 
level  with  hers,  she  slapped  him  full  in  the  face, 
burst  into  tears,  and  ran  up  to  her  room,  while 
Sam,  with  a  look  of  amazed  chagrin,  stood  staring 
helplessly  towards  the  Squire,  who  did  not  smile. 

"Good  Heavens!  Mr.  Branch,"  said  Sam  at 
last,  "I  didn't  dream  of  hurting  her  feelings;  I 
would  n't  have  done  it  for  the  world." 

"No, I  suppose  not,  Sam,  but  I  am  afraid  she 
is  not  yet  accustomed  to  those  attentions  from 
gentlemen;  at  least,  I  trust  so,"  said  the  Squire 
dryly. 

"Attentions!"  stammered  Sam;  then  rather 
indignantly,  "To  a  child!  Mr.  Branch,  I  don't 
quite  like  that  word;  I  am  a  gentleman." 

"I  was  wrong,  Sam,"  said  the  Squire  quickly; 
"I  beg  your  pardon.  Polly  is  a  child  in  many 
ways  and  almost  a  woman  in  others.  She  is  over 
fourteen,  and  has  read  a  good  deal,  and  has  a 
great  deal  of  reserve  and  dignity,  and  it  is  plain 
that  you  have  hurt  her  very  much  without  in 
tending  it.  I  spoke  hastily  because  I  don't  like 
to  see  her  feel  badly." 


230  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"I  am  awfully  sorry,  Mr.  Branch;  tell  me  what 
I  can  do.  Won't  she  come  down  and  let  me  apo 
logize?  " 

"I  don't  think  so  now.  She  will  probably  feel 
nearly  as  badly  from  having  struck  you,"  added 
the  Squire. 

"She  served  me  just  right.  I  wish  she  had 
knocked  my  stupid  head  off." 

"She  left  the  marks,  at  all  events,"  laughed  the 
Squire.  "I  can  see  four  distinct  finger-prints;  she 
is  a  spiteful  little  thing." 

"Well,  I  will  write  her  a  note  apologizing  for 
my  evil  deeds,  and  perhaps  she  will  forgive  me; 
that  is,  if  you  will  help  me  out,  Mr.  Branch," 
said  Sam  ruefully. 

"Oh,  I'll  do  that,  of  course;  I  want  you  and 
Polly  to  be  friends.  The  time  may  come  when  she 
will  need  a  friend,"  said  the  Squire  gravely,  and 
said  "  good-night." 

That  night  Sam  wrote  a  most  humble  and  com 
ical  letter  of  apology  to  the  spunky  little  lady, 
which  made  her  laugh,  but  did  not  quite  have  the 
effect  Sam  hoped  for,  as  it  was  more  than  a  week 
before  she  received  Sam  into  favor  again. 

Sam  had  also  succeeded  in  making  friends  of 
the  town  boys.  Of  course  the  adventure  with  Bill 
had  made  many  admirers,  but  few  friends,  as  the 
town  boys  had  looked  upon  Bill  as  a  local  cham 
pion  too  long  to  feel  any  gratification  at  his  de- 


A  VISITOR  231 

feat,  and  in  a  way  they  felt  aggrieved  that  a  new 
comer  should  strip  Bill  of  the  laurels  he  had  held 
for  so  long  a  time.  Had  Sam  fought  a  man  from 
any  other  town,  every  man-jack  of  them  would 
have  yelled  encouragement,  and  would  have 
swelled  and  bragged  and  blown  themselves  out 
with  civic  pride,  but  for  Sam  to  "lick"  Bill,  their 
own  Bill,  was  quite  another  matter. 

But  few  boys  and  indeed  few  men,  however 
prejudiced,  can  withhold  their  admiration  and 
liking  from  a  first-class  ball-player,  whether  ama 
teur  or  professional,  and  when  it  was  found  that 
Sam  was  a  star,  and  knew  the  game  thoroughly, 
and  had  coached  Yale  as  well  as  caught  for  two 
years  before  graduation,  and  when  it  was  further 
known  that  he  could  hold  Hartnett,  who  pitched 
cannon  balls,  every  boy  in  town  swore  by  him. 
And  so  Sam,  greatly  to  his  own  pleasure,  had 
donned  baseball  togs  again,  and  had  developed  a 
really  excellent  country  team,  which  had  beaten 
the  strong  Brookmouth  team,  a  member  of  the 
Intercity  League. 

To  be  sure  there  were  times  when  he  longed  for 
the  old  life  and  the  clubs  and  restaurants,  the 
polo  and  yachting  and  dancing  and  fun-making 
which  was  so  enjoyable  while  it  lasted,  but  these 
spells  did  not  endure,  and  were  driven  away  by 
hard  work  and  ambition.  For  the  correspond 
ence  between  Sam  and  the  young  girl  in  white 


232  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

had  come  to  an  acute  point,  when  Sam  passion 
ately  declared  his  love  and  pressed  her  for  an  an 
swer  on  a  certain  day.  And  for  the  few  days  that 
Sam  waited  for  her  answer  he  haunted  the  post- 
office,  could  scarcely  open  a  book,  and  when  he 
did,  would  vainly  endeavor  to  rivet  his  attention 
to  the  text,  but  read  without  the  slightest  com 
prehension  of  the  words  that  his  lips  audibly 
muttered,  until  he  found  that  it  was  impossible 
to  concentrate  his  ideas  upon  reading,  and  he 
pressed  the  Squire  to  send  him  upon  local  errands 
that  took  him  not  so  far  from  the  post-office  that 
he  could  not  be  on  hand  at  the  distribution  of 
every  mail. 

And  the  Squire,  shrewdly  noting  the  signs,  did 
his  best  to  keep  him  busy,  although  he  felt  that 
.Sam's  marriage  with  a  New  York  girl  might  mili 
tate  against  the  life  of  a  country  lawyer  he  had 
marked  out  for  himself.  At  Alvy's  Sam  ate  his 
meals  with  but  very  little  idea  of  what  they  con 
sisted,  took  his  exercises,  greeted  his  friends  as 
usual,  but  so  timed  his  tramps  that  he  was  never 
out  of  range  of  the  post-office. 

And  at  last  one  evening  Sam,  with  a  tense  face, 
opened  the  box  and  took  out  a  pile  of  letters,  with 
one,  a  square  white  thick  envelope  with  a  heavy 
seal.  He  put  it  quickly  in  his  pocket  where  it 
almost  seemed  to  burn  him,  crowded  the  other 
letters  back  in  the  box,  locked  it,  and  strode  hur- 


A   VISITOR  233 

riedly  to  his  room.  Entering,  he  locked  the  door, 
lighted  his  lamp  with  such  nervous  fin'gers  that 
he  snapped  three  matches  in  pieces  before  he  got 
a  light.  Then  he  ripped  open  the  inclosure  and 
read.  And  as  he  read,  his  face  lighted  up,  his 
eyes  shone,  his  cheeks  flushed,  and  his  breath 
came  hard  and  fast.  "Thank  God!"  he  said. 
He  could  scarcely  believe  his  good  fortune.  He 
wanted  to  shout,  to  throw  open  the  window  and 
tell  the  world  that  he,  Sam  Randolph,  with 
scarcely  a  penny  to  his  name,  with  nothing  but 
his  hands  and  brains  and  health  was  the  richest 
man  in  the  world.  That  as  for  happiness,  there 
was  no  such  happy  man  in  the  universe.  And  he 
read  the  letter  again  and  again.  Then  he  paced 
the  room  with  quick,  light  strides.  How  in  the 
world  could  she  love  him,  with  nothing  to  re 
commend  him  but  his  powers  as  an  athlete  and 
his  campus  records !  Why  should  she,  the  bright 
est,  most  beautiful  and  sweetest  girl  he  had  ever 
met,  the  one  girl  he  had  dreamed  of  and  longed 
for  and  worshiped,  have  chosen  him  from  so 
many  better,  brighter,  richer,  and  far  more  eligi 
ble  mates!  He  could  not  believe  it.  There  must 
be  some  mistake,  and  again  he  had  to  read  the 
letter,  to  dwell  on  every  line,  every  word.  What 
a  charm  in  the  dashing,  unstudied  lines!  What 
a  grace  and  delicacy  in  the  phrases!  Why,  even 
the  punctuation  marks  had  an  individuality  of 


234  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

their  own,  which  could  be  associated  with  nobody 
else.  Ethel!  what  a  beautiful  name!  And  how 
well  it  became  her.  Simple  and  pure  and — and 
— well,  so  different  from  Evelyn,  or  Hildegarde, 
or  Adelaide,  or  Clarissa,  or  Elizabeth,  or  Doro 
thy,  or  Marion. 

All  were  good  names  and  would  perhaps  have 
suited  other  girls,  beautiful  girls,  too.  But  Ethel! 
Somehow  Ethel  was  the  one  name  that  suited 
her.  And  she  was  the  one  girl  that  suited  the 
name.  There  never  was  another  Ethel,  there 
never  could  have  been.  Ethel! 

Well,  poor  Sam  was  hard  hit.  So  much  so  that 
he  loved  the  whole  world.  It  seemed  as  if  he  must 
hug  somebody.  Then  the  poor  dazed  fellow  sat 
down  and  wrote  his  Ethel  the  most  devoted,  pas 
sionate,  thankful  letter,  burning  with  such  love 
and  tenderness  and  adoration  and  personal  hu 
mility  and  modesty  and  hope  and  trust  and  am 
bition  (for  her  sake)  and  determination  (for  his 
own),  that  she  must  have  wondered  that  she  or 
any  other  girl  should  have  been  capable  of  inspir 
ing  such  love  in  a  big,  strong,  healthy  lad,  keen 
for  the  strong  competition  of  life. 

And  the  next  day,  when  Sam  went  to  the  office, 
he  was  so  bright  and  beaming,  so  brimming  over 
with  kindness,  so  studious  and  helpful,  that  the 
Squire  knew  that  the  letter  had  come,  and  prim 
Miss  Ellis  in  the  depths  of  her  virgin  heart  con- 


A   VISITOR  235 

structed  a  most  wonderful  romance  in  which  Sam 
was  the  hero  and  a  most  wonderfully  beautiful 
and  loving  young  woman,  not  the  least  in  the 
world  like  Miss  Ellis,  was  the  heroine. 

It  was  the  next  summer  that  Tom,  who  had 
bought  Sam's  furniture,  made  him  a  visit.  The 
year  had  passed  quickly  for  Sam  in  hard  study, 
hard  work,  and  hard  play.  Ethel's  letters  had 
been  regular  and  loving.  Sam  wrote  two  letters 
to  her  one,  but  then  he  had  so  much  to  say,  while 
she  was  so  busy  with  dances  and  concerts  and 
teas  and  dog  shows,  yachting  and  polo  and  the 
thousand  diversions  of  a  city  life,  that  she  really 
could  not  find  time  to  write  as  fully  as  she  wished. 
But  she  loved  Sam,  —  she  said  so,  —  and  Sam  cer 
tainly  wrote  enough  for  both. 

Sam  had  already  begun  practice  in  a  small  and 
somewhat  guarded  way.  That  is,  he  had  fre 
quently  appeared  in  probate  court  in  the  routine 
work  of  administration  and  guardianship,  settle 
ment  of  accounts,  the  procuring  of  allowances,  of 
licenses  real  and  personal,  the  probate  of  wills  in 
common  and  solemn  form,  and  had  defended  and 
prosecuted  some  small  criminal  actions  in  the 
police  courts,  with  considerable  credit.  In  simple 
matters  he  advised  clients,  and  as  he  was  very 
cautious  and  painstaking  he  gave  very  good  satis 
faction. 


236  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

One  day,  while  engaged  with  a  client  of  the 
Squire's,  a  young,  fashionably  dressed  man,  with 
a  merry  face  and  dazzling  smile,  came  in.  Sam 
glanced  up  abstractedly,  asked  him  to  take  a 
seat,  and  returned  to  his  client.  The  young  fellow 
did  so  and  with  Sam  listened  to  a  very  amusing 
story  which  was  being  told  by  old  Ike  Parrish,  a 
dry,  active,  wiry,  weasened  man  of  about  sixty, 
an  inveterate  horse-trader. 

:<Ye  see,  Mister  Randolph,  I  wuz  a-drivin* 
aout  on  the  Paow-waow  River  rhud  one  day  'n'  I 
met  up  with  a  feller  a-drivin'  a  black  hoss.  'T  was 
ole  Eph  Badger.  Wa-a-1,  me  'n'  Eph  we  traded, 
'n'  I  tuk  the  black  hoss,  ez  smooth  a  critter  ez 
you  ever  see.  Eph,  ye  know,  is  a  leetle  apt,  jest 
the  leastest  bit  apt,  ter  git  holt  of  bosses  as  is 
sorter  onreliable-like.  I  wuz  sorter  s'picious, 
'cause  I  made  so  good  a  trade  with  Eph,  long  's  I 
let  him  have  a  hoss  that  wuz  a  leetle,  jest  the  lee- 
tlest  bit  light  behind.  Not  vicious  like,  but  jest 
frisky  enough  to  sorter  kinder  let  flicker  at  the 
dashbowd  of  the  waggin.  Jest  high  sperits,  a  lee 
tle  higher  behine  than  in  front.  I  heerd  thet  old 
Eph  hed  a  hoss  thet  wuz  fitty.  Ginerally  hed  one 
or  tew  a  week,  putty  reg'lar.  Mind !  I  jest  heerd 
so.  Did  n't  know  it;  pshaw,  no !  did  n't  believe  it; 
only  jest  heerd  it.  So  I  thought  I  'd  better  git  red 
of  this  hoss  'fore  I  know'd  much  abaout  him. 
D'ye  kneaw  ole  Jonathan  Brackett,  him  thet 


A   VISITOR  23T 

keeps  a  blacksmith  shop  daown  ter  West  Kemp- 
ton?  Don't  kneaw  'im?  Wa-a-1,  Jont  is  the  mas 
ter  hand  for  a  hoss  trade.  Druther  trade  bosses 
than  eat  any  day,  er  drink  neether,  'n'  thet  's 
sayin'  a  gret  deal. 

"Wa-a-1,  I  owed  Jont  one  for  th'  last  trade  we 
bed,  when  he  traded  me  a  roarer  for  a  nice  chunk 
of  a  hoss  'at  I  let  him  hev.  It  hed  jest  a  leetle  dif 
ficulty  in  its  eyes  'baout  seein'  things  quick.  Not 
blind,  ye  kneaw,  but  leetle  short-sighted,  jest  a 
leetle.  'T  would  n't  run  agin  a  house  or  a  taown 
hall,  but  might  not  see  a  post  or  suthin'  small. 
But,  all  the  same,  Jont  he  beat  me  in  thet  trade, 
'n'  I  owed  him  one.  Did  n't  hev  no  feelin"  baout 
it,  only  kinder  like  to  keep  even,  ye  kneaw. 

''Wa-a-a-1,  ez  I  wuz  sayin',  I  thot  I  hed  orter 
git  red  of  the  critter,  'n'  so  I  rubbed  him  daoun 
till  he  shone  julluk  a  nigger's  heel,  'n'  put  on  my 
best  harness  'n'  hooked  him  inter  a  tew-wheel 
gig,  —  ye  kneaw  a  gig  allers  makes  a  hoss  look 
gamey,  —  'n'  started  aout,  'n'  when  I  got  putty 
nigh  to  Jont's  corner  I  jest  fetched  the  old  hoss  a 
wipe  under  the  belly  where  't  would  n't  show,  'n' 
the  way  we  went  by  Jont's  shop  wuz  a  caution  ter 
snakes.  Jont  he  'd  hearn  the  rattle  of  the  gig  'n' 
the  huf -beats,  'n'  he  stud  in  his  shop  door  lookin' 
over  his  spettacles  with  his  maouth  wide  open 
when  I  went  by.  Wa-a-1,  arter  a  while  I  turned 
raound  'n'  jogged  back  twuds  him.  When  I  wuz 


238  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

goin'  by  Jont's,  he  kem  aout  'n'  hollered, '  Here, 
you  ornery  old  Ike  Parrish,  whaddier  mean  by 
drivin'  by  my  shop  'ithout  stoppin',  yeau?' 

" '  Wa-a-1,  Jont,'  sez  I,  *  the  fust  time  I  went  by, 
I  hed  my  hands  full  with  this  'ere  hoss.  Ye  see,  a 
feller  tackled  me  back  here  a  mile  er  so  'n'  I  hed 
ter  show  'im  my  dust.  He  turned  off  'baout  a  haf- 
fer  mile  back,  but  the  old  hoss  wanted  to  go  'n'  I 
thot  I'd  let  him  go  ter  see  haow  long  his  wind 
would  hoi'  aout,  but  I  guess  he'd  a-gone  to  the 
beach,  'n'  so  I  pulled  'im  up  'n'  jogged  back.  I 
callate  I  wuz  goin'  some,  Jont,'  sez  I. 

'  'Callate  ye  wuz,  Ike,'"  sez  he.    *  By  mighty! 
thet  'ere  hoss  kin  step  some.    Whereje  git  'im?' 
'Traded  fer  'im  over  ter  North  Kempton,' 
sez  I. 

'"WillyeseH'imP'sezhe. 

'Naow,  Jont,'  sez  I,  'I  never  hed  ary  hoss  in 
my  hull  life  thet  I  would  n't  trade  er  sell.  I  ain't 
much  sot  on  gittin'  red  of  this  'ere  hoss.  He  kin 
step  a  quarter  almighty  handy,  'n'  I  think,  Jont, 
I  think  his  las'  quarter  in  a  mile  'ud  be  a  leetle 
faster  than  his  fust,'  sez  I. 

"  'Haow  '11  ye  trade  'im  fer  that  hoss  thar?'  sez 
he,  p'intin'to  a  likely  lookin' hoss  hitched  aout  in 
the  yard. 

"Oh,  him,'  sez  I,  lookin'  kinder  'mused  at 
the  hoss;  'wa-a-1,  I  guess  I'll  hafter  charge  ye 
'baout  a  hunner'  dollars  boot  twixt  the  bosses, 


A   VISITOR  239 

V  I  orter  charge  ye  a  hunner'  'n'  twenty-five,' 
sez  I. 

'  *  Pshaw,  neaow,  Ike,  watcher  think  yer  old 
boss  is,  Flory  Temple  er  'Merican  Gal?'  sez  he. 

"Wa-a-1,  we  dickered  'n'  dickered,  'n'  dick 
ered,  'n'  all  the  time  I  kep'  my  eye  on  my  hoss, 
scart  mos'  to  death  fer  fear  he  might  throw  a  fit 
'n'  spile  the  trade. 

"Wa-a-a-1,  bimeby  Jont  he  said  he'd  gimme 
his  hoss  'n'  twenty-five,  'n'  I  held  aoutfor  thutty, 
but  old  Jont  he  would  n't  budge,  'n'  so,  sez  I, 
'Wa-a-1,  Jont,  seein'  it's  yeou,  I'm  a-goin'  to 
shift  'em.' 

"  So  we  started  to  shift  hosses,  'n'  when  I  went 
aout  ter  git  Jont's  hoss  to  lead  'im  in,  whatcher 
think  I  faound?  Why,  thet  hoss  wuz  cockle- 
j  in  ted  behind  like  all  git  aout.  Thet  there  ornery 
old  cuss  hed  hitched  thet  hoss  aout  in  the  tall 
grass  so  I  could  n't  see  his  hocks.  Wa-a-1,  there 
is  wuss  things  than  cockle-jints,  they  don't  hurt  a 
hoss  much,  only  ef  ye  think  of  them  snappin'  in 
and  aout  it  makes  ye  feel  squirmy,  jullukwhen  ye 
see  a  feller  throwin'  'is  thumbs  aout  of  jint.  So  I 
hed  made  a  good  trade,  but  it  don't  dew  ter  brag 
tew  soon,  'n'  when  I  led  the  hoss  up  to  where  Jont 
stood  with  my  hoss,  sez  I  to  Jont,  'Naow,  Jont, 
yeou  'n'  me  's  been  fren's  fer  a  good  many  years 
'n'  we've  traded  hosses  time  'n'  agin,  an'  naow, 
arter  all  thet  you've  gone  an'  pammed  off  on  me 


240  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

a  cockle- jinted  boss,  wuth  'baout  ten  dollars, 
Jont,  a  cockle-jinted  boss,'  sez  I.  'Jont,  I 
should  n't  ha'  thot  it  uv  ye,  Jont,  I  raly  should  n't,' 
sez  I. 

; '  Ike,'  sez  he,  putty  loud,  '  a  trade 's  a  trade, 
ain't  it?'  sez  he. 

'Thasso,  Jont,'  sez  I. 

'  'An'  ye  traded,  did  n't  ye? '  sez  he,  laouder  'n 
ever. 

'Thasso,  Jont,'  sez  I. 

'Ye  ain't  goin'  ter  squeal,  be  ye?'  sez  he. 

''No,  Jont,'  sez  I,  sorter  sorrerful,  'I  ain't  no 
squealer,  but  my  feelin's  is  hurt;  I  would  n't  ha* 
bleeved  ye'd  a-went  'n'  did  it,  Jont,'  sez  I. 

"Wa-a-1,  we  shifted  bosses,  'n'  jest  ez  I  wuz 
'baout  ter  drive  off,  Jont  he  up  an'  said,  '  Naou 
we  hev  traded,  Ike,  'n'  ye  kneaw  what's  aout 
'baout  my  boss,  naou,Ike,'  sez  he,  'what's wrong 
with  the  boss  ye  let  me  hev?' 

"Jont,'  sez  I,  'I  raly  don't  know  nothin'  agin* 
'im,  but  ef  he  is  the  boss  I  think  he  is,  but  I  don't 
think  he  is,  he 's  a  leetle,  jest  the  leastest  bit  lia 
ble  to  hev  fits,'  an'  then  I  teched  up  Jont's  boss 
'n'  driv  off,  'n'  lef '  Jont  a-stannin'  lookin'  over  his 
spettacles  with  his  maouth  wide  open  julluk  I  see 
him  first,  only  he  wuz  a-holdin'  on  ter  my  boss. 

"  Wa-a-a-1,  sure  enough,  thet  night  'baout  tew 
o'clock  in  the  mornin'  or  thereabaouts,  I  heered 
a  almighty  paoundin'  on  my  door.  I  sorter 


A   VISITOR  241 

'spected  't  wuz  Jont,  'n'  I  stuck  my  head  aouter 
the  winder  'n'  said, '  Who  be  ye,  'n'  whatcher  want?' 

"  Then  I  heered  ole  Jont's  vice  a-sayin,'  '  'S  me, 
Ike;  I  thot  I'd  come  over  'n'  tell  ye  't  wuz  the 
same  dummed  hoss,'  'n'  Jont  he  put  fer  hum,  'n' 
naow  what  I  wanter  know  is,  kin  Jont  prosecute 
me  fer  sellin'  a  fitty  hoss?" 

Sam  roared  with  laughter,  while  Ike  contented 
himself  with  a  dry  sort  of  quirk  to  his  mouth,  his 
nearest  approach  to  a  smile. 

When  Sam  could  control  himself,  he  said :  — 

"I  don't  think,  Mr.  Parrish,  they  could  con 
vict  you  unless  you  really  knew  the  horse  was  a 
fitty  horse.  Still,  it  is  a  pretty  close  call  to  even 
suspect  it,  and  then  sell  or  trade  him,  but  I  don't 
think  your  friend,  Mr.  Jonathan  Badger,  is  in  a 
position  to  do  anything  about  it.  I'm  surprised 
that  he  should  think  of  it,  under  the  circum 
stances." 

"Wa-a-1,  Mr.  Randolph,  I  don't  quite  bleeve 
he  will,  only  I  want  the  Squire  ef  he  duz. " 

And,  after  paying  a  retainer,  which  Sam  en 
tered  on  the  day-book  and  wrote  a  receipt  for, 
he  left,  and  Sam  turned  to  the  newcomer,  gasped 
with  surprise,  shouted  "Tom!"  and  fell  upon  him 
violently.  "Tom!  how  under  the  canopy  did  you 
get  here?  The  last  man  I  expected  to  see,  and  the 
one  I  wanted  to  see  most,"  and  he  choked  and 
pounded  him  on  the  back. 


242  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Sam,  you  old  Hercules,  let  me  get  my  breath, 
and  I'll  tell  you,"  gasped  Tom,  as  he  pump- 
handled  him.  "It's  been  a  hundred  years  since 
I  have  seen  you,  old  man,  and  it 's  good  to  see 
your  homely  old  mug  again." 

After  they  had  fairly  exhausted  themselves, 
Sam  introduced  Tom  to  Miss  Ellis  as  his  best 
friend,  barring  Mr.  Branch. 

Tom  won  Miss  Ellis  at  once  by  his  straight 
glance,  his  merry  eyes,  and  his  frank  words. 

"Perhaps  not  his  best  friend,  Miss  Ellis,  he  has 
so  many  of  them,  but  his  Alter  Ego.  Why,  we 
are  David  and  Jonathan,  the  Siamese  Twins,  Da 
mon  and  Pythias,  two  of  the  Three  Guardsmen. 
Why,  when  we  were  in  New  York  together,  we 
had  one  purse  between  us  and  that  was  Sam's;  we 
had  but  one  thought  and  that  was  to  see  which 
could  stay  up  the  latest  and  raise  the  most  Cain, 
and  now,  '  how  have  the  mighty  fallen ! '  Sam  I 
find  a  quiet,  jog-trotting,  plodding  old  country 
squire,  coolly  advising  a  most  abandoned  horse- 
trader  how  near  or  how  '  nigh '  he  can  come  to  the 
criminal  point  in  a  trade  without  rendering  him 
self  liable.  Sam!"  he  cried,  "did  you  ever  hear 
anything  better  than  that  'Ef  he's  the  hoss  I 
think  he  is,  but  I  don't  think  he  is,  he's  a  leetle, 
jest  the  leastest  bit  liable  to  hev  fits'?"  — and 
Tom's  voice  was  a  perfect  imitation  of  Ike's 
nasal  tone,  —  "why,  that  would  make  a  stunning 


A  VISITOR  243 

hit  on  the  stage.  Are  there  many  such  people 
round  here?" 

''Yes,  plenty  of  them.  I  can  show  you  some  of 
the  choicest  specimens  you  ever  saw,  at  my  hotel. 
In  the  summer  they  loaf  on  the  front  steps  and 
make  the  patrons  of  the  hotel  go  in  by  the  side 
door,  and  in  the  fall  and  winter  they  sit  round  the 
stove  and  spit  and  tell  stories  that  no  man  ever 
heard  before.  But,  Tom,  sit  down  and  tell  me 
how  you  came  here,"  demanded  Sam,  thrusting 
his  friend  bodily  into  a  chair. 

"Why,"  said  Tom,  "the  easiest  thing  in  the 
world.  You  see,  my  aunt  has  been  spending  the 
summer  at  Bar  Harbor,  and  a  short  time  ago  she 
asked  me  to  come  down  there  to  the  jumping-off 
place  and  make  her  a  visit,  and  of  course,  bearing 
in  mind  your  invitation,  and  learning  from  the 
Pathfinder  that  my  trail  led  through  your  town, 
I  thought  I  would  look  you  up." 

"By  George!  Tom,  you  are  a  philanthropist,  a 
benefactor,  a  truly  great  man.  I  have  been  home 
sick  at  times  to  see  some  of  the  old  fellows  and  to 
learn  what  they  were  doing.  Think!  Tom,  I 
have  n't  been  in  New  York  for  two  years." 

'Two  years!  You  blundering  dummy,  it's 
more  like  twenty.  Jove!  it  must  have  been  like 
being  buried  alive,  with  occasional  awakenings 
when  horse-traders  came  in  for  advice,"  said 
Tom  with  a  grin. 


244  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Being  buried  alive!  Anything  but  that. 
Tom,  you  won't  believe  me,  but  sometimes  I 
really  think  that  more  happens  here  to  me  than 
did  in  New  York.  Of  course  I  am  working  and 
have  worked  hard.  Harder  than  ever  before  in 
my  life.  And  I  like  it,  and  I  like  the  country.  It's 
clean,  it's  wholesome,  it's  neighborly,  it's  —  it's 
-  different,  you  know.  A  man  has  a  chance  to 
breathe  and  a  chance  to  think  here.  In  New 
York  he  can  neither  breathe  nor  think." 

"But,  Sam,  have  you  made  friends  here,  like 
the  old  ones?  "  asked  Tom. 

"Not  like  the  old  friends,  Tom;  but  with  a  few 
exceptions  I  have  not  been  sorry  to  leave  the  old 
ones.  It 's  a  race  there,  with  little  care  for  the  one 
behind,  and  it  is  hard  to  keep  up  sometimes.  Now 
here,  I  have  made  some  very  dear  friends,  —  Mr. 
Branch;  Miss  Ellis  here,"  at  which  the  steno 
grapher  colored  with  pleasure;  "little  Polly,  Mr. 
Branch's  niece,  the  dearest  little  girl  you  ever 
saw;  Alvy  the  hotel  keeper;  Ben  and  the  machin 
ist  crowd,  and  a  good  many  others.  Here  comes  the 
best  one  now,"  he  added,  as  a  gleam  of  pleasure 
lit  up  his  eyes  and  a  man's  footsteps  were  heard 
ascending  the  stairs,  and  the  "Squire"  entered. 

"Hullo,  Sam;  good-afternoon,  Miss  Ellis;  back 
the  same  day  you  see,  and  glad  to  get  back,  as  I 
always  am,"  said  the  Squire  as  he  laid  his  green 
bag  on  his  desk  and  turned  as  Sam  spoke. 


A  VISITOR  245 

"Mr.  Branch,  I  would  like  to  have  you  meet 
Tom,  Mr.  Benton,  my  best  New  York  friend," 
said  Sam,  coming  forward. 

"  So  you  are '  Tom,'  Mr.  Benton ;  well,  if  you  are 
Sam's  best  friend,  I  think  you  and  I  have  a  good 
deal  in  common,  as  well  as  a  good  many  people  in 
this  town.  At  all  events,  I  think  I  shall  feel  en 
titled  to  call  you  Tom,"  said  the  Squire,  with  his 
delightful  smile. 

"Really,  Mr.  Branch,"  said  Tom,  quite  flushed 
with  pleasure,  "that  is  mighty  kind  of  you  and  I 
appreciate  it.  I  don't  wonder  Sam  likes  Elm- 
town  if  people  met  him  as  you  have  met  me." 

"It  depends  a  good  deal  on  the  fellow,  Tom," 
replied  the  Squire.  "I  imagine  you  make  friends 
more  quickly  than  Sam.  Am  I  right?  '; 

:'Yes,  I  make  them  much  more  readily  than 
Sam  and  a  good  many  more,  but  Sam's  friends 
are  closer  than  brothers,  and  mine,  —  well,  mine 
are  friends  only  as  long  as  I  am  flush." 

"I  guess  you  are  a  bit  given  to  exaggeration 
there,"  said  the  Squire. 

"Well,  perhaps,  but  boiled  down  there  would 
be  a  nugget  in  it,  with  the  relative  proportions 
about  the  same  as  the  original  statement,"  said 
Tom. 

"Now,  Sam,"  said  the  Squire,  "don't  stay  in 
the  office  to-day.  Take  your  friend  Tom  around, 
show  him  the  town  and  some  of  our  characters, 


246  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

and  talk  over  old  times.  Forget  the  office  as  long 
as  Tom  stays  and  make  him  stay  as  long  as  you 
can.  And,  by  the  way,  Tom :  there  is  a  room  and 
a  pipe,  a  glass  of  something  and  three  good  meals 
a  day  at  my  house  while  you  are  here.  Sam  has 
been  working  too  hard,  and  I  guess  you  are  the 
only  one  who  can  get  him  out  of  the  office." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Branch,  I  appreciate  it  more 
than  you  think.  I  am  going  to  take  a  room  to 
night  near  Sam,  as  I  shall  have  to  go  back  to 
morrow,  and  wish  to  see  as  much  of  him  as  possi 
ble.  But  I  shall  certainly  call  at  your  house,  for 
I  must  see  that  little  Polly  whom  Sam  writes  so 
much  about." 

"And  I  know  she  will  be  on  pins  to  see  you. 
Sam  has  told  her  a  lot  of  your  fun  and  mischief," 
returned  the  Squire. 

"What  a  fine  old  boy  he  is.  Gad!  Sam,  it 's 
worth  a  trip  here  to  meet  a  man  like  Mr.  Branch. 
By  George !  you  have  n't  written  a  bit  too  enthu 
siastically  about  him,"  exclaimed  Tom  as  they 
went  down  the  stairs  together. 

"Isn't  he?"  chimed  in  Sam.  'Tom,  I  have 
met  a  few  great  men  and  a  great  many  fine  men, 
but  I  never  have  met  a  finer  combination  of  abil 
ity  and  simple-heartedness,  firmness,  unselfish 
ness,  and  moral  cleanliness  than  Mr.  Branch. 
He  is  as  reliable  as  the  Rock  of  Gibraltar.  The 
finest  man  I  know." 


A  VISITOR  247 

"Sam!"  said  Tom,  with  conviction,  "did  the 
Squire  ever  have  an  important  case  with  any 
New  York  parties?" 

"I  think  so,  Tom;  I  never  heard  him  speak  of 
it,  but  I  know  old  Colonel  Van  Cleve  was  very 
much  incensed  against  him  for  something,  and  I 
had  an  idea  that  Mr.  Branch  had  crossed  his 
bows  somewhere,"  replied  Sam. 

"That 's  it,  sure,  Sam.  Old  Van  Cleve  was  in 
this  case.  There  was  some  question  about  a  syn 
dicate  of  New  York  capitalists  trying  some  dodge 
or  other  in  regard  to  a  big  tract  of  land  in  the 
White  Mountains  region.  Something  about  the 
damming  of  a  navigable  stream  and  keeping  the 
public  off  the  tract.  They  sent  Burroughs  and 
Anthony  on  with  Dan  Donahue  to  try  the  case 
with  some  New  Hampshire  firm,  and  the  Squire 
licked  'em.  Fairly  played  horse  with  them.  I  re 
member  hearing  how  mad  old  Van  Cleve  was  at 
the  Squire's  argument.  He  sailed  into  the  old 
gentleman's  motives  in  a  very  candid  and  compel 
ling  manner,  and  rapped  him  over  the  nose  in  a 
very  free  way.  The  Squire  came  on  to  New  York 
in  the  final  settlement,  and  had  a  conference  with 
the  Manhattan  Trust  Company  officials  and 
lawyers  and  made  a  great  impression  on  them. 
Well,  what  I  was  going  to  say  is  that  I  sa\v  the 
Squire  at  that  time  do  one  of  the  most  kind- 
hearted  and  courteous  acts  I  ever  saw,  and  to  a 


248  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

total  stranger.  To-day  when  I  saw  him,  I  thought 
he  was  the  same  man,  and  when  he  spoke  as  he 
did  I  was  sure  of  it.  I  was  in  Dooley's  Chop 
House  for  lunch.  Dooley  always  employs  table- 
girls  to  do  the  waiting,  and  they  have  to  walk  a 
chalk-line  too.  It  was  a  hot  day,  and  there  had 
been  a  rush,  and  the  girl  at  the  table  next  to  me 
looked  about  done  up.  There  were  a  couple  of 
tin-horn  sports  at  the  table  who  had  ordered  an 
expensive  lunch,  and  had  been  badgering  the  girl 
for  keeping  them  waiting.  Finally,  the  girl  came 
along  with  a  big  tray  of  dishes  over  her  shoulder, 
and  just  as  she  got  near  my  table  something  hap 
pened,  and  the  entire  load  crashed  to  the  floor, 
smashing  crockery  and  spilling  everything.  In  an 
instant  the  head  waiter  and  the  proprietor 
rushed  up  in  a  rage,  the  girl  put  both  hands  to 
her  face  and  began  to  cry,  poor  thing,  and  just 
then  a  fine-looking  man  —  or  gentleman,  you 
could  see  it  at  once  —  stepped  up  and  said  to  the 
girl,  '  My  dear  young  lady,  I  am  so  sorry  for  my 
carelessness  and  clumsiness.  It  was  wholly  my 
fault  in  having  my  foot  where  you  fell  over  it.' 
The  young  girl  looked  at  him  as  if  she  doubted 
her  existence,  while  he  turned  to  the  irate  pro 
prietor  and  said, '  You  will  please  allow  me  to  pay 
you  for  the  damage,  to  apologize  to  these  gentle 
men,'  and  he  bowed  to  the  tin-horn  sports,  'for 
delaying  their  lunch,  and  to  compensate  the 


A  VISITOR  249 

young  lady  for  her  annoyance.'  Now,  I  '11  swear, 
Sam,  that  the  girl  did  n't  come  within  a  yard  of 
his  foot,  and  every  one  knew  she  did  n't,  but 
there  was  no  disputing  him,  for  he  carried  every 
thing  his  way,  paid  a  round  bill  for  the  broken 
crockery,  paid  for  a  new  lunch  for  the  sports, 
tipped  the  woman  who  removed  the  dishes, 
tipped  the  girl  and  the  head  waiter,  shook  hands 
with  the  proprietor,  and  walked  out,  after  giving 
us  all  the  finest  lesson  in  kind-heartedness  and 
courtesy  I  ever  saw.  I  inquired,  as  did  every  one 
else,  who  he  was,  and  some  one  said  it  was  a  New 
Hampshire  lawyer  who  had  licked  Dan  Donahue 
in  a  case,  and  we  all  wished  there  were  more  of 
them  like  him." 

'That  was  Mr.  Branch,  I  have  no  doubt;  it 
was  just  like  him.  He  is  always  doing  kind  things. 
He  is  a  ripping  lawyer,  too ;  and  when  it  comes  to 
an  actual  trial,  well,  you  should  see  him  in  action, 
that's  all,"  said  Sam. 

During  the  afternoon  Sam  and  his  friend  went 
over  the  town,  saw  all  the  local  sights,  and  wound 
up  by  going  to  the  station  at  the  arrival  of  the  six 
o'clock  train,  and  had  the  sinful  pleasure  of  see 
ing  two  pitched  battles  between  drivers  of  rival 
coaches.  Tom  captivated  every  one  he  met  by 
his  jolly  good-natured  manners,  his  infectious 
laugh,  and  his  frank  interest  in  them  and  their 
affairs,  so  gratifying  to  country  people.  He  did 


250  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

not  laugh  at  them,  but  laughed  with  them  and 
made  them  laugh  at  him. 

He  had  supped  at  Alvy's,  and  afterwards  sat 
on  the  steps  with  the  loungers  and  had  had,  as  he 
assured  Sam,  the  bulliest  evening  he  could  re 
member.  He  told  them  the  story  of  Ike  Parrish 
so  naturally  that  they  haw-hawed  and  slapped 
their  knees  and  voted  Tom  a  "buster." 

Then,  on  Tom's  invitation,  they  lined  up  at 
the  bar  and  drank  his  health. 

One  man,  expressing  some  disapproval  at  the 
quality  of  the  whiskey,  said  it  was  bad,  but  was 
at  once  taken  to  task  by  old  Allison,  who  said 
with  much  decision,  "Bad  whiskey!  they  ain't  no 
sech  thing  ez  bad  whiskey.  All  whiskey  is  good, 
only  some  kinds  is  better  'n  others." 

"By  the  way,  Kin,"  said  Newt  to  old  Mr. 
Flanders,  "the'  tell  me  there  's  goin'  ter  be  a  tax 
on  new  rum." 

"Wa-a-1,"  said  the  old  gentleman  placidly, 
"never  mind,  it 's  wuth  it,  it 's  wuth  it." 

Alvy  having  refused  old  Bige  Pickering  credit 
for  a  joint  treat,  Bige  was  moved  to  reminis 
cence. 

"Alvy  'minds  me  of  ol'  Jimmy  Bitum  Haggin. 
Jimmy  wuz  so  tarnal  mean  't  folks  said  that  he 
wud  give  his  gals  'n'  boys  ten  cents  apiece  to  go  to 
bed  without  their  suppers,  'n'  then,  when  they 
wuz  asleep,  he  would  steal  their  ten  cents." 


A   VISITOR  251 

"Jimmy  Bitum  Haggin!  what  a  name!" 
roared  Tom.  "How  did  he  get  such  a  name?" 

"Wa-a-1,  some  folks  sez  't  wuz  because  he  was 
so  mean  't  he  wud  bite  a  cent  in  two.  T'  others 
said  he  kep'  two  dogs  to  keep  boys  out  of  his  or 
chard  and  melon-patch,  and  he  wuz  allers  hol- 
lerin'  Sic-em,  Bose,  'n'  bite-em,  Jim,'  'n'  so  they 
called  him  ol'  Jimmy  Bitum." 

"They  is  some  powerful  queer  names  raoun' 
here,  young  man,"  said  Allison. 

"Really!"  said  Tom;  "tell  me  a  few." 

"Wa-a-1,  the'  wuz  an  ol'  cuss  what  fit  into 
the  Mexican  War,  'n'  he  wuz  allers  a-talkin' 
'baout  gret  ginerals  'n'  battles  'n'  battlefields,  'n' 
whatcher  think  he  named  his  oldest  boy?" 

"Mexican  War,  —  why,  Zachary  Taylor,  I 
suppose,  or  possibly  Sam  Houston,"  said  Tom, 
rubbing  up  his  history  and  laughing. 

"Wa-a-1,  he  did  n't  get  them  names  in,  though 
I  don't  zackly  see  why  not,  but  he  got  in  all  the 
others,  I  reckon;  wa-a-1,  his  name  wuz  'George  — 
Weston  -  -  San  Antonio  -  -  Santo  Bernardo  - 
Castinietta  —  Lo  Pedee  —  Santa  Anna  —  Lov- 
ell.'  Then  the'  wuz  ol'  Cale  Piper  who  had  eight 
children;  he  did  n't  give  no  long-winded  names. 
Jes'  plain  ones,  't  he  could  call  'em  all  to  dinner 
quick;  they  wuz  Liz,  Luke,  Sal,  Mol,  George, 
Harn,  Dice,  'n'  Jim.  He  wuz  a  putty  smart  ol' 
codger  'n'  used  to  walk  straight  ez  a  cob  when  he 
wuz  mos'  eighty -five  year  ol'." 


A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Huh!  smart!  I  '11  bate  he  wa  n't  no  smarter 
*n  any  other  feller.  The  reason  wuz  because  he 
wuz  so  dummed  old  't  he  did  n't  know  enough  to 
know  he  wuz  feeble,"  said  old  Bige,  with  a  dis 
gusted  snort. 

"Hullo,  Ezry,"  said  Allison,  as  a  thickset  man 
in  overalls  came  along  and  took  a  seat  on  the 
banking,  pulling  out  an  old  pipe,  and  leaning 
violently  to  one  side  while  he  scratched  a  match 
on  the  seat  of  his  trousers,  "whatcher  been  doin* 
to-day?" 

"Been  up  to  old  Charles  Nealey's  movin'  a 
slaughter-house  across  the  rhud.  Th'  wuz  a  mas 
ter  squad  uv  rats,  ole  wallopers,  some  on  'em  mos* 
as  big  as  cats.  Bill  Donohue  had  his  bull  terrier 
there,  'n'  thet  'ere  dog  was  a  buster  fer  killin* 
rats;  just  give  em  a  grab  'n'  a  quick  shake  'n'  they 
wuz  deader  'n  ole  Pharo,  the  feller  thet  got  up  the 
keerd  game.  Guess  he  killed  'baout  fifty  on  'em, 
'n'  we  fellers  welted  a  goo'  many  with  clubs  'n' 
stomped  on  some,  'n'  one  on  'em  run  up  ole 
Charles's  britches  leg,  'n'  by  mighty!  yeou  hed 
orter  seen  thet  ole  feller  hop  raoun'  'n'  grab  for 
his  britches,  'n'  rip  'n'  cuss,  'n'  him  a  piller  of  the 
church." 

"I  heerd  onct,"  said  Eben  Caswell,  "thet  the' 
wuz  a  man  at  the  Caounty  Farm  thet  wuz  eena- 
most  et  up  by  rats  one  night.  They  wuz  a  most 
almighty  towse  abaout  it,  'n'  the  Caounty  Com- 


A  VISITOR  253 

missioners  advertised  fer  cats  'n'  got  'baout  tew 
million,  'n'  they  wuz  sech  a-yawlin'  'n'  a-fitin' 
nights  thet  they  hed  to  shoot  'em,  'n'  they  wuz 
more  rats  than  ever.  'N'  then  the  commissioners 
sent  tew  Boston  'n'  got  a  wheen  of  ferrets,  'nr 
they  killed  all  the  chickens  'n'  turkeys  'n'  geese 
on  the  farm,  'n'  bit  tew  er  three  paupers  'n'  one 
er  the  Caounty  Commissioners.  They  killed  the 
rats,  too,  so  't  wuz  all  right." 

"Ho-a-ag!"  rasped  old  Allison;  "p'tu, "  he 
continued,  aiming  at  a  hitching-post;  "speakin' 
uv  rats,  'minds  me  uv  the  time  I  tended  store  up 
ter  Yappin'.  Kep'  a  reg'lar  kentry  store.  'T  wuz 
kep'  by  ole  Josh  Burley.  Wa-a-1,  we  dealt  in 
grain  'n'  supplies,  'n'  crockery,  'n'  groceries,  'n' 
new  rum,  'n'  hardware.  Wa-al,  you  kneaw  haow 
thick  the  pesky  rats  is  in  grain  stores.  So  I  hed 
seen  some  ole  wallopers,  'n'  so  I  loaded  an  ole 
musket,  but  could  n't  find  any  shot.  An'  I 
leaned  the  gun  in  a  corner,  'n'  thought  I  would 
get  some  shot  the  nex'  day.  Wa-a-1,  one  day,  - 
p'tu,  —  I  looked  aout  'n'  see  the  biggest  ole  gray 
rat  I  ever  see,  mos'  ez  big  ez  a  tomcat.  I  grabbed 
the  gun  'n'  remembered  they  wuz  n't  no  shot. 
'T  wuz  springtime  'n'  we  hed  a  pailful  of  seed 
peas,  so  I  grabbed  a  han'ful,  poured  'em  into  the 
gun,  rammed  in  a  wad  uv  paper,  'n'  tiptoed  aout. 
The  rat  wuz  there,  trying  to  drag  off  a  ham,  'n' 
b'goshamighty,  I  guess  he  would  ha'  done  it  'f  I 


254  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

had  n't  come  along,  —  p'tu,  -  -  'n'  let  flicker. 
Wa-a-1, 1  guess  I  must  'a'  hed  a  big  charge  in,  fer 
the  ole  gun  she  went  off  like  a  cannon,  sot  my 
shoulder  'baout  tew  inches  aout  er  plumb,  'n'  me 
daoun  in  a  bushel  basket  uv  eggs,  'n'  yeou  hed 
orter  hev  seen  me.  I  had  grabbed  fer  suthin' 
when  I  went  over  'n'  hed  let  go  uv  the  gun,  'n'  I 
hed  brung  daoun  a  hull  stand  uv  crockery,  'n'  a 
barrel  uv  brooms,  'n'  hed  knocked  the  fasset 
aouter  a  bar'l  er  vinegar,  'n'  the  dummed  ole  gun 
had  flew  through  the  show-case  'n'  busted  tew 
dollars  wuth  uv  glass.  My  close  wuz  clean 
spiled,  'n'  ter  tell  it  jest  as  it  wuz,  thet  fool  gun 
cost  me  'baout  thutty  dollars,  —  p'tu.  Wa-a-1, 
what  I  wanted  to  tell  ye  'baout  wuz  this.  Arter 
I  got  cleaned  up,  I  went  aout  'n'  hunted,  but  I 
did  n't  find  no  rat,  so  I  thought  I  must  'a'  missed 
him.  'T  wuz  then  'baout  the  middle  uv  April. 
Wa-a-1,  'baout  six  weeks  later  I  wuz  lookin'  aout 
the  back  door  uv  the  store  'n'  all 't  onct  I  see  thet 
big  rat  again,  an'  -  -  ye  wont  bleeve  this,  but  may 
I  be  struck  dead  this  minute  if  't  ain't  jest  ez  I 
tell  it  —  thet  'ere  dummed  ole  gray  rat  hed  a  pea- 
vine  more  'n  tew  feet  long  spraoutin'  from  his 
back  with  blossoms  'n'  pods  on  it." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Tom,  rising,  "will  you  join 
me?  "  and  there  was  a  unanimous  response. 

Tom  did  not  go  away  the  next  morning,  but 
remained  for  three  days  longer.  He  made  Miss 


A  VISITOR  255 

Ellis  laugh  as  she  had  n't  laughed  for  years, 
amused  the  Squire  and  little  Polly  until  they 
nearly  died  with  laughter,  so  won  the  affections 
of  the  Senator,  the  Captain,  and  their  sister,  that 
the  latter  sat  down  to  the  old  piano  with  the  yel 
lowed  keys  and  played  the  "Battle  of  Prague" 
and  "Napoleon  Crossing  the  Alps,"  two  very 
ancient  compositions,  and  on  being  pressed,  sang 
with  a  very  worn  and  cracked  voice  an  exceed 
ingly  sad  and  tearful  composition  - 

"Are  we  almost  there?  Are  we  almost  there? 
Said  a  dying  girl  as  they  drew  near  home." 

And  that  other  long  forgotten  song  — 

"The  postboy  drove  with  fierce  career, 
For  threatening  clouds  the  moon  had  drowned, 
When  suddenly  I  seemed  to  hear 
A  moan,  a  melancholy  sound." 

On  being  pressed  for  another,  she  gave  them  sev 
eral  verses  of  a  most  heart-rending  ballad,  — 

"One  night  when  the  wind  it  blew  wild, 
Blew  bitter  across  the  wild  moor, 
Young  Mary  she  went  with  her  child, 
Fleeing  back  to  her  own  father's  door. 

"Ah!  how  must  her  father  have  felt 
When  he  went  to  the  door  in  alarms, 
For  Mary  lay  there  with  her  child 
Fondly  clasped  in  her  dead  mother's  arms." 

And  would  have  continued  had  not  Tom  seen 
that  Polly  was  shaken  with  sobs,  and  Sam  was 


256  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

looking  as  if  he  could  bite  a  railroad  spike  in  two, 
when  he  cleverly  turned  their  sober  thoughts  in 
another  direction  by  giving  some  killing  imita 
tions  and  droll  stories. 

During  these  three  days  Tom  had  been  every 
where,  had  delighted  every  one,  and  when  he  left 
for  Boston  on  the  afternoon  train,  intending  to 
return  to  New  York  the  next  day,  he  was  given 
quite  an  ovation  by  the  station  loungers,  the 
hackmen,  and  the  barge  drivers. 

The  day  he  left  he  had  said  very  soberly  to 
Sam,  "Sam,  old  man,  I  haven't  been  quite  so 
enthusiastic  about  your  engagement  as  you 
hoped.  It  is  n't  that  I  don't  like  Ethel  Curtis.  I 
do  like  her,  and  I  think  she  is  a  beautiful  girl,  a 
sweet  girl,  and  a  good  girl,  but  I  do  doubt  her 
ability  to  make  a  happy  wife  or  a  helpful  wife  for 
a  country  lawyer,  living  in  the  country.  No 
doubt,  I  am  wrong,  -  -  I  hope  I  am,  —  and  I  hope 
you  will  be  as  happy  with  her  as  you  deserve. 
But  Sam,  how  in  the  world  you  can  pass  over 
that  dear,  delightful  little  Polly  for  any  one,  I 
don't  see." 

Sam  laughed.  "Polly,  bless  her,  is  the  dearest 
little  girl  on  earth,  and  she  is  my  sister,  Tom; 
that 's  all,  but  that 's  a  big  difference." 

"Well,  Sam,  I  will  serve  notice  on  you  now 
that  sometime  I  am  coming  back  to  enter  the 
lists  for  that  young  lady." 


A  VISITOR  257 

Sam  felt  a  twinge  of  annoyance,  and  his  face 
showed  it,  for  Tom  said,  "I  am  in  dead  earnest, 
Sam,  and  am  not  joking  one  bit." 

"Well,  good-by,  Tom,"  said  Sam,  in  genuine 
regret  at  his  departure;  "give  as  good  a  report  as 
you  can  to  my  friends." 

"Good-by,  old  man,"  replied  Tom,  "I  '11  make 
every  man  of  them  so  envious  of  you  that  they 
will  reform,  every  man-jack  of  them,  and  try  to 
amount  to  something  besides  money -burners "; 
and  the  train  started. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

BROKEN    TROTH 

IT  was  June  again,  and  Sam  was  on  the  last  lap 
before  the  examinations  in  September.  He 
had  been  very  much  disappointed  early  in  the 
previous  winter,  when  he  had  been  looking  for 
ward  to  a  week's  visit  to  New  York  to  see  Ethel, 
and  she  had  suddenly  accepted  an  invitation  to 
spend  the  winter  abroad  with  the  Tivertons,  who 
owned  the  big  estate  on  the  Hudson  and  the 

brownstone  house  on th  Street.   Bob  Tiver- 

ton  was  an  acquaintance  of  Sam's,  a  puffy,  over 
fed  fellow,  of  no  particular  importance  except 
that  of  his  great  wealth,  his  habit  of  indulging 
himself  without  limit,  and  a  biting,  sarcastic  wit 
that  gave  him  a  certain  vogue  in  clubs  where 
highly  seasoned  conversation  was  more  in  evid 
ence  than  good  taste. 

Sam  had  always  rather  disliked  the  Tivertons, 
as  he  thought  them  a  glaring  combination  of 
great  wealth  and  bad  manners,  and  he  could 
scarcely  have  understood  how  Ethel  could  have 
been  willing  to  spend  a  winter  with  them,  had  she 
not  explained  that  her  uncle,  Colonel  Van  Cleve, 
and  the  elder  Tiverton  had  been  engaged  in  some 
financial  deal  that  made  it  highly  desirable  to 


BROKEN  TROTH  259 

have  the  Tivertons  on  the  most  intimate  terms 
with  them  during  the  negotiations.  If  the  idea 
ever  occurred  to  Sam  that  Bob  Tiverton's  pre 
sence  in  the  party  meant  more  than  a  trip  to  the 
Baths  to  recover  from  his  New  York  excesses,  he 
resolutely  put  it  aside  as  unworthy  of  himself  and 
of  Ethel. 

In  the  past  six  months  he  had  worked  harder 
than  ever,  and  had  surprised  even  the  Squire  in 
the  keenness  of  his  mind  and  his  powers  of  legal 
analysis.  Indeed,  so  absorbed  was  he  in  his  work, 
that  he  almost  forgot  to  wonder  at  the  short,  in 
frequent  letters  she  wrote.  He  never  forgot  to 
write  her,  regularly,  long  letters  filled  with  his 
plans,  his  hopes,  and  his  increasing  love  and  long 
ing  for  her.  And  yet  at  times  he  feared  some 
thing,  he  knew  not  what. 

One  day  the  Squire  came  in  with  a  bundle  of 
letters  while  Sam  was  copying  an  account  at  his 
desk.  Sorting  his  own  from  the  pile  he  tossed 
Sam  one,  opened  his  letters,  and  began  to  read 
and  to  dictate  to  Miss  Ellis.  Sam  saw  at  once 
that  his  letter  bore  a  foreign  postmark,  and  he 
opened  it  with  an  undefined  fear  at  his  heart.  A 
clipping  from  the  Paris  edition  of  the  New  York 
World  fell  out  and  he  read,  - 

Married  on  the  28th  day  of  May  at  the  American  Embassy, 
Ethel  Pauline  Curtis,  niece  of  Colonel  Crawford  Van  Cleve  of 
New  York,  to  Mr.  Robert  Manton  Tiverton,  son  of  Peter  and 
Mary  C.  Tiverton,  also  of  New  York. 


260  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Sam  made  an  odd  clicking  noise  in  his  throat, 
and  stared  at  the  paper,  while  his  face  went 
deadly  white. 

The  Squire  looked  up  sharply.  "What  is  it 
Sam?  What  is  it,  boy?"  he  said  as  he  rose 
hastily. 

"Will  you  read  this  for  me,  please,  Mr. 
Branch,"  said  Sam,  pronouncing  his  words  with 
difficulty.  "I  don't  quite  understand";  and  he 
rose  and  extended  the  paper  with  a  shaking 
hand. 

The  Squire  took  it,  read  it  rapidly,  turned  to 
Sam  and  said,  "It  has  come,  then,  Sam;  I  feared 
it." 

"Then  you  think  there  is  no  mistake,  Mr. 
Branch?"  said  Sam. 

"None,  Sam,  none,  it  is  straight  enough.  The 
New  York  World  does  n't  make  mistakes  of  that 
kind,"  said  the  Squire  sadly. 

Sam  stood  with  his  arm  on  the  desk,  and  stared 
at  the  floor.  For  a  long  time  he  stood  there  with 
out  motion.  Then  he  mechanically  folded  up  the 
clipping  with  great  care,  stepped  to  the  closet, 
put  on  his  street  coat  and  hat,  and  said,  "If  you 
don't  mind,  I  think  I  will  go  out  a  while." 

"But  isn't  there  anything  I  can  do,  Sam?" 
asked  the  Squire. 

"Nothing,  Mr.  Branch,  this  is  a  thing  a  man 
must  fight  out  alone." 


BROKEN  TROTH  261 

Then  he  turned  quietly  and  walked  down  the 
stairs,  and  towards  his  room. 

As  he  approached  Henessey's  saloon,  a  man 
stepped  forward  in  his  path.  Sam  turned  aside, 
the  man  crossed  in  front  of  him.  Sam  looked  up 
fiercely  and  saw  Bill  Evans,  and  the  words  of 
Nichols  came  back  to  him.  It  was  true,  then, 
that  Bill  had  been  training  for  months  to  thrash 
him. 

"Get  out  of  my  path,"  said  Sam,  quietly,  but 
in  a  tense  voice  and  speaking  between  his  teeth. 

Bill  thrust  his  face  forward. 

"Let 's  see  you  make  me,  you  damned  - 

Smack !  smack !  smack !  went  Sam's  fists  before 
Bill  could  draw  back,  and  Bill  flew  off  the  side 
walk  heels  up,  then  scrambled  to  his  feet  in  time 
to  receive  a  rain  of  smashing  blows.  Down 
again,  and  again,  under  blinding  blows  that  were 
rained  on  him  like  steel  rods.  Ha!  that  time  Bill 
did  n't  get  up.  Henessey  and  several  others  tried 
to  raise  him,  but  he  lay  inert. 

"Give  him  some  water,"  said  one. 

"No,  whiskey  is  better,"  said  another. 

"Bill,  Bill,  wake  up,  what 's  the  matter  with 
you?"  Then  there  was  a  splash  of  water.  "There, 
that 's  better.  See!  he  opened  his  eyes.  Wipe  off 
the  blood,  some  one.  There,  Bill,  do  you  know 
where  you  are?"  as  Bill  slowly  regained  his  scat 
tered  wits. 


A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Sam,  who  had  been  standing  quietly,  now 
stepped  forward. 

"Has  the  man  had  enough,  or  does  he  want 
some  more?" 

"Enough  and  more  than  enough,  and  if  he 
had  n't  been  a  damn  fool  he  would  have  known 
that  a  year  ago.  What  are  you  trying  to  do,  Bill, 
commit  suicide?" 

Sam  turned  abruptly  and  elbowed  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  and  walked  rapidly  towards 
Alvy's  stable. 

"Pat,"  he  said,  "bring  out  the  kicker,  and 
put  on  the  W7estern  saddle.  I  'm  going  to  ride 
him." 

"Howly  saints,  Misther  Randolph,  yez  won't 
be  afther  ridin'  thot  divil.  Th'  divil  fly  away  wid 
him,  he  '11  be  afther  killin'  yez." 

"Go  ahead,  Pat,  and  bring  him  out,  or  if  you 
are  afraid,  I  '11  do  it,"  insisted  Sam. 

"An'  it 's  not  afraid  Oi  am,  sor,  fur  mesilf,  but 
Oi  wud  be  afraid  to  back  the  divil." 

"Well,  bring  him  out.  I  will  be  down  in  a 
minute  as  soon  as  I  get  into  my  riding-clothes," 
said  Sam  as  he  went  into  the  hotel. 

It  took  but  a  few  minutes  for  Sam  to  change. 
He  put  on  his  sharpest  and  heaviest  spurs,  and 
took  a  heavy  rawhide  whip,  with  a  thong  binding 
it  to  his  wrist,  and  came  into  the  yard  where 
several  of  the  guests  and  loungers  were  gather- 


BROKEN  TROTH  263 

ing  to  see  the  fun.  But  Sam  looked  so  pale  and 
his  eyes  shone  so  that  nobody  said  a  word  to  dis 
suade  him  from  what  seemed  to  them  a  foolhardy 
attempt. 

Pat  and  John  were  having  trouble  in  saddling 
the  horse,  a  powerful  chestnut  with  magnificent 
limbs,  a  rolling  white-rimmed  eye,  and  small  ears 
laid  flat  to  his  head,  as  he  swung  his  quarters 
and  lashed  out  with  his  heels  whenever  they  at 
tempted  to  tighten  the  girths.  Sam,  taking  a 
blanket,  threw  it  over  the  savage  head,  and  then 
tightened  both  girths  and  carefully  examined  the 
saddle.  Then  he  procured  a  twist,  and  seizing  the 
horse  by  the  nostrils,  put  on  the  twist,  and  held 
him  until  Pat  put  on  a  heavy  bridle  and  mar 
tingale. 

Then  with  Pat  on  one  side  and  John  on  the 
other,  they  led  him  into  the  road,  and  Sam,  care 
fully  gathering  the  reins  into  his  left  hand,  put 
one  foot  into  the  stirrup  in  spite  of  the  plunges  of 
the  brute,  and  with  a  quick  spring  was  in  the 
saddle  with  his  knees  gripping  like  a  vice.  As  he 
straightened  up,  the  men  let  go  their  grips,  and 
the  vicious  beast  rose  on  his  hind  legs,  plunged, 
rose  again,  whirled,  kicked,  and  plunged  like  a 
demon.  Whoof!  down  on  his  withers  came  the 
whip  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other.  Up 
he  went  straight  as  an  arrow,  almost  toppling 
backward,  but  was  wrenched  sidewise  and  the 


264  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

spurs  sent  home.  Up  again,  but  received  a  heavy 
blow  between  the  ears  with  the  heavy  butt  of 
the  whip,  and  the  spurs  were  sent  in  again  and 
again. 

He  could  not  stand  that,  and  bolted  like  an 
express  train,  gripping  the  bit  between  his  teeth, 
and  taking  magnificent  strides.  Away  over  the 
bridge,  up  the  hill,  and  toward  the  beach  he  went 
like  a  flying  shadow  and  the  crowd  lost  sight  of 
him. 

"Suthin*  must  be  wrong  with  Sam,  I  never 
knowed  him  to  lash  a  hoss  like  that  afore," 
opined  old  Allison.  "He  allus  rid  'em  easy  'n' 
kinder  coaxed  'em,  but  this  time  he  has  ketched 
a  tartar.  Hope  he  won't  be  killed." 

"Wonder  whasser  matter?"  said  Bige  Picker 
ing.  "He  kem  aouter  the  offis,  'n'  Bill  Evans  he 
picked  a  row  with  him,  'n'  in  tew  minutes  he 
licked  Bill  so  he  could  n't  git  up,  'n'  then  he  kem 
over  here  'n'  's  tryin'  his  best  to  break  his  tarnal 
neck.  Suthin'  is  wrong." 

"By  tripe!"  said  old  Kin  Flanders;  "seems 
like  thet  'ere  Bill  Evans  ain't  knowed  when  he  's 
had  enough." 

:<  Ya-a-s,  Kin,  he  knows  it  naow,  'n'  sez  he  was 
a  gol-blasted  lunkhead,  'n'  sez  if  Sam  will  shake 
hands  with  him  he  'lows  he  '11  do  it,"  said  Eli 
Beede,  sticking  the  butt  of  a  gift  cigar  on  the 
blade  of  his  pocket  knife  so  as  to  smoke  it  longer. 


VICIOUS   BKAST   ROSK   OX   HIS    HIND  LEGS 


BROKEN  TROTH  265 

"Pshaw,  ye  don't  sesso;  wa-a-a-1,  Bill  's  got 
more  sense  knocked  inter  him  then  I  thought,  - 
ho-a-a-g,  p'tu,"  said  Allison,  sitting  down  with 
great  care  and  much  stiffness  of  legs. 

"Wonder  where  young  Randolph  'n'  thet 
crazy  hoss  is  now?"  mused  Bige  aloud;  'baout 
time  fer  him  to  be  a-showin'  up,  ain't  it,  Alvy?" 

"Huh,"  said  Alvy,  with  huge  affectation  of  in 
difference;  "he  ain't  likely  to  git  back  fer  an  hour 
yet." 

"Wai,  'f  he  don't  git  raoun'  in  haffernour,  I 
sh'd  hook  up  a  hoss  'n'  look  fer  his  remains,"  said 
Kin. 

"What 's  th'  use  of  bein'  sech  a  dummed  oF 
croaker,  Kin?  I  tell  ye  thet  young  feller  ain't 
comin'  ter  no  hurt  with  a  hoss,"  said  Allison. 

A  half -hour  passed.  Alvy  hustled  in  and  out 
attending  to  the  wants  of  customers,  and  occa 
sionally  peered  watchfully  down  the  road.  Then 
two  men  drove  in  from  the  beach,  but  said  they 
had  seen  nothing  of  the  horse  and  rider. 

An  hour  passed,  then  another  half-hour. 

Alvy  came  out.  "  Pat,  hook  up  the  Chase  mare 
to  the  light  Concord." 

Pat  rushed  to  the  stable  to  hook  up  the  mare, 
John  to  the  carriage-house  to  run  out  the  Con 
cord.  The  loungers  arose  as  Alvy  came  out  with 
his  precious  ivory-handled  whip.  Something  was 
going  to  be  done.  Just  then  the  sharp  hoof -beats 


266  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

of  a  trotting  horse  were  heard,  and  Sam  rode 
quietly  into  the  yard  with  a  sweat-crusted,  tired, 
and  very  tame  horse. 

"There,  by  mighty,  what  'd  I  tell  yer?"  de 
manded  old  Allison. 

"Jes'  what  I  thought,  b'goshamighty,"  said 
Bige  gleefully. 

"Got  any  hoss  left,  Sam?"  inquired  Alvy 
cheerfully. 

Sam  dismounted  somewhat  stiffly  and  laughed 
grimly.  ';' Yes,  Mr.  Dole,  there  is  plenty  of  horse 
there  yet,  and  what  is  left  is  of  the  best  quality." 

Then  Sam  himself  removed  the  saddle,  and  had 
Pat  wash  the  horse  with  lukewarm  water  and 
soap,  while  John  rubbed  his  legs  with  witch-hazel 
and  bandaged  them  to  prevent  soreness  in  the 
muscles.  It  was  ten  o'clock  when,  after  seeing 
the  horse  cooled  and  fed  and  having  eaten  a  light 
supper,  Sam  went  to  his  room.  He  was  weary  and 
sick  at  heart  now  the  excitement  of  his  two  bat 
tles  had  left  him,  and  he  flung  himself  down  on 
his  bed  and  gazed  upwards  in  the  dim  light.  He 
could  hear  doors  shut,  and  people  going  along  the 
corridors  to  their  rooms,  and  the  voices  of  the 
loungers  in  the  yard. 

Little  by  little  the  voices  died  away,  the  sounds 
in  the  streets  became  quiet.  Now  and  then  a  be 
lated  team  drove  by,  and  once  a  team  entered  the 
yard.  He  could  hear  John's  sleepy  tones  as  he  put 


BROKEN  TROTH  267 

up  the  horse.  Once  in  a  while  a  horse  stamped  or 
rattled  his  manger,  or  he  heard  the  distant  song 
of  a  reveler  going  to  a  late  bed.  Occasionally  a 
dog  barked,  and  once  a  sleepy  crow  from  the  hen 
house  was  heard.  Sam  felt  he  was  alone  with  his 
bitterness,  his  wretchedness,  the  blank  feeling 
that  everything  had  snapped. 

He  thought  bitterly  of  how  he  had  worked  and 
planned  and  schemed  for  her,  and  then  he  real 
ized  what  a  useless,  worthless,  unlovable  cad  he 
was,  and  how  weak  and  selfish.  He  had  friends, 
the  Squire  and  Polly  and  Ben,  Miss  Ellis,  Tom, 
the  Senator,  and  scores  of  others,  and  he  was 
a  selfish,  utterly  selfish  brute  to  lie  there  like  a 
whining  hound  just  because  she  had  shown  the 
good  sense  to  throw  him  over.  But  Bob  Tiverton, 
of  all  men,  —  sly,  selfish,  sarcastic,  wicked,  dissi 
pated.  Well,  it  would  serve  her  right,  he  hoped 
-  no,  he  could  n't  quite  bring  himself  to  hope 
she  would  be  wretched,  but  he  hoped  she  would 
some  day  realize  that  she  had  made  a  mistake, 
and  that  wish  was  a  proof  of  his  selfishness,  for 
why  should  n't  she  —  well,  curse  it  all,  what  a 
mixed-up,  dismal  affair  life  was  anyway!  he 
would  go  to  sleep  and  forget  it  and  everything 
else. 

The  night  wore  on,  the  big  bell  of  the  Congre 
gational  Church  struck  twelve,  and  Sam,  from 
very  weariness  of  mind  and  body,  drifted  into  a 


268  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

half-wakeful  doze.  Now  he  was  fighting  Bill,  and 
finding,  to  his  unspeakable  vexation,  that  his 
arms  were  suddenly  paralyzed;  now  he  was  riding 
the  furious  chestnut  with  a  broken  bridle  and  the 
saddle  turning;  again  he  was  striving  to  get  to  the 
church  in  time  to  prevent  a  marriage  from  taking 
place,  only  to  find  that  his  legs  bent  under  him 
and  he  could  scarcely  crawl.  He  struggled  fear 
fully,  the  sweat  burst  from  him,  and  he  awoke 
trembling  and  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  Yes,  the 
dream  was  true :  he  could  not  reach  the  church  in 
time  because  he  was  tied  hand  and  foot  in  this 
cursed  country  town,  while  she  —  but  no  more 
of  this !  he  would  sleep  and  would  forget  it.  The 
silence  of  the  summer  night  was  intense :  even  the 
night  breeze  slumbered,  and  once  he  thought  he 
heard  light  steps  going  rapidly  through  the  yard. 
Who  could  be  out  there  at  this  time?  Possibly 
one  of  the  men,  or  some  loafer  or  drunkard,  who 
had  been  sleeping  off  the  effect  of  a  debauch, 
slinking  home  in  the  darkness.  Sam  turned  rest 
lessly  on  his  couch.  Suddenly  he  realized  that  he 
was  in  his  riding-clothes,  having  only  removed 
his  spurs.  Perhaps  if  he  undressed  he  could 
sleep.  So  he  got  up  and  went  to  the  window, 
drew  up  the  curtain  to  look  out.  It  was  a  dark, 
overcast  night,  with  no  moon  behind  the  clouds. 
He  half  turned,  when  he  saw  a  faint  light  in  the 
direction  of  the  lower  barn.  He  stared.  A  flicker 


BROKEN  TROTH  269 

of  flame  darted  out,  grew  larger  and  faintly  lit  up 
the  black  outlines  of  the  barn,  until  Sam  could 
see  spirals  of  white  smoke  coming  from  the 
cracks.  The  light  grew  and  the  horses  began  to 
stamp,  whinny,  and  cough .  The  barn  was  afire ! 

Sam  dashed  into  the  corridor,  ran  to  Alvy's 
door  and  pounded.  "Get  up,  Alvy,  the  barn  is 
afire!"  he  yelled. 

Then  he  dashed  downstairs,  unlocked  the  side 
door,  and  plunged  into  the  yard.  The  flames 
were  now  crackling,  the  light  was  growing,  and 
the  stamping  of  the  horses  was  thunderous.  He 
rushed  into  the  hostlers'  room,  yelling,  and 
dragged  them  out  bodily,  asking  them  for  God's 
sake  to  unlock  the  barn.  Both  had  been  drinking 
and  fumbled  for  the  key.  With  a  curse  Sam 
seized  an  axe  from  the  corner  and  sprang  for  the 
barn  door.  It  was  locked.  He  brought  the  axe 
down  with  a  crash,  and  splintered  the  lock,  and 
ran  the  door  back.  A  gust  of  smoke  met  him  and 
a  glare  of  flame  was  visible  in  the  lower  barn. 
Two  of  the  horses,  Robin  and  King,  stood  in  the 
floor.  He  rushed  in  and  began  to  unfasten  the 
others  and  drag  them  from  the  stalls  and  lash 
them  towards  the  big  doors. 

Pat  and  John,  sobered,  joined  him,  and,  care 
less  of  danger,  dashed  among  the  stamping, 
whinnying,  struggling  brutes,  and  cut  their 
halters,  and  forced  them  into  the  floor  space. 


270  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

The  crackling  had  increased  to  a  roar,  and  they 
could  not  get  into  the  further  barn.  The  agon 
ized  bellowing  of  the  tortured  cow,  the  hideous 
hoarse  screams  of  the  burning  horses,  the  squeal 
ing  of  the  hogs  and  the  screams  and  shouts  of 
John  and  Pat  as  they  beat  back  the  frenzied 
horses,  who  tried  to  rush  towards  the  light,  made 
a  terrifying  uproar,  in  the  midst  of  which  the 
thunderous  bellow  of  the  gong  was  heard.  Some 
one  had  pulled  in  an  alarm. 

The  horses  in  the  east  and  middle  barns  were 
loosed  and  driven  out,  but  wheeled  and  came 
charging  back  into  the  barn  like  a  troop  of  cav 
alry,  to  be  checked  by  blows  and  yells.  As  they 
wheeled,  snorting  and  squealing,  Sam  rushed  for 
the  chestnut,  ran  the  trailing  rope  of  his  halter 
through  his  mouth,  sprang  on  his  back,  swung 
him  round  and  dug  in  his  heels  with  the  horse- 
wrangler  yell  he  had  learned  on  the  Plains,  that 
shrill  "  Whoo-oop-ee ! "  that  horses  will  follow. 
They  turned  like  wild  horses  and  followed  him. 
People  running  towards  the  barn  scrambled  for 
safety,  and  the  troop  of  horses,  with  heads  up, 
eyes  staring,  and  tails  streaming  in  the  wind, 
rushed  over  the  bridge  in  the  wake  of  the  whoop 
ing  maniac  on  the  big  chestnut.  Across  the  bridge 
Sam  swung  to  the  left  straight  for  the  millyard 
with  its  high  fence,  shouting  for  the  watchman  to 
open  the  gate.  In  a  moment  the  horses  were  safe, 


BROKEN  TROTH  271 

and  Sam,  flinging  himself  on  the  ground,  gasped 
and  choked  from  smoke-sickness. 

Then  he  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  ran  across 
the  two  bridges,  back  to  the  fire.  He  had  not 
been  gone  more  than  ten  minutes,  but  in  that 
time  the  fire  had  spread  fearfully.  The  flames 
roared  to  an  incredible  height,  flaming  shingles, 
brands,  and  thousands  of  sparks  streamed  off  on 
the  wind. 

In  front  of  the  engine-house  the  big  steamer 
was  dancing  up  and  down  like  the  lid  of  a  kettle, 
while  two  heavy  streams  were  thrown  into  the 
centre  of  the  raging  crater.  Men  with  hooks 
were  trying  to  pull  down  the  sheds,  and  were 
being  driven  back  by  the  intense  heat.  As  Sam 
came  running  across  the  bridge,  he  saw  fright 
ened  pigeons  from  the  lofts  fly  over  the  fire  and 
drop  like  bullets  when  the  fierce  heat  struck 
them.  The  road  was  lined  with  carriages  drawn 
from  the  carriage-house,  barges  from  the  open 
shed,  and  piles  of  harness  and  poles;  stoves, 
bedding,  furniture,  and  every  kind  of  domestic 
utensil  was  being  dragged  out  of  the  hotel  and 
the  neighboring  buildings.  The  billiard  hall  had 
caught,  the  carriage-house  was  burning  fiercely, 
and  a  large  bakery  and  store  adjoining  the  bil 
liard  hall  had  begun  to  smoke  and  scorch. 

Telegrams  were  hastily  sent  to  Haverly  and 
Devon  for  assistance,  and  the  old  hand-tubs,  but 


272  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

lately  discarded,  were  rushed  out,  backed  to  the 
river,  and  limbered  up  with  eager  crews.  Five 
streams  were  now  hissing  and  sputtering  on  the 
fire,  but  it  raced  and  ran  and  roared  like  a  gigan 
tic  furnace,  while  buildings  smoked,  scorched, 
burst  into  flames  before  they  could  be  cleared  of 
their  contents.  Bucket  brigades  were  formed, 
which  drenched  the  roofs  of  near-by  buildings, 
wet  blankets  and  carpets  were  hung  down  on  the 
sides,  small  buildings  were  pulled  down  bodily  by 
long  lines  of  men  with  huge  hooks.  The  hose-men 
dropped,  and  their  places  were  filled  by  others, 
the  pumpers  staggered  from  the  brakes  ex 
hausted,  and  volunteers  rushed  to  help  them. 

On  the  top  of  the  old  Fountain  stood  Bill 
Evans,  his  face  bruised  and  blackened,  his  shirt 
open  at  the  throat,  his  hair  wildly  tossed  over  his 
purple-rimmed  eyes,  his  huge  legs  going  up  and 
down  on  the  brakes  like  piston  rods,  his  hairy 
arms  waving  in  unison  with  the  stroke  of  the 
plunger,  and  his  big  voice  roaring  oaths  and  en 
couragement  to  his  men,  "Now,  give  her  hell! 
Give  her  hell,  I  tell  you!  That's  the  way! 
Down  with  her,  down  with  her,  —  now!  Now!! 
Now!!!  Bully  for  you,  damn  yer!  bully  boys!!" 

Charlton,  the  chief,  chewing  a  cigar,  cool, 
quiet,  emotionless,  was  everywhere,  directing  his 
men,  a  nod  here,  a  quick  word  there,  a  bellowing 
call  upon  his  trumpet  to  those  at  a  distance.  Oc- 


BROKEN  TROTH  273 

casionally  he  looked  at  his  watch  and  listened 
intently.  Suddenly  the  far-away  shriek  of  a  loco 
motive  was  heard,  then  another  from  a  different 
direction.  'They  are  coming  all  right,"  he  said. 

Two  of  the  barns  had  fallen  in,  the  billiard  hall 
was  a  seething  furnace,  the  bakery  roof  had 
fallen,  the  hotel  was  ablaze  from  cellar  to  garret, 
and  the  line  of  small  stores,  saloons,  and  restaur 
ants  was  afire  in  dozens  of  places.  The  hose-men 
lay  protecting  themselves  from  the  intense  heat 
by  doors  wrenched  from  the  buildings,  from  be 
hind  which  they  held  the  stream  straight  into  the 
crater  of  fire. 

The  carriages,  furniture,  and  contents  of  the 
buildings  were  dragged  to  the  square  to  prevent 
them  from  burning  in  the  narrow  streets.  Crowds 
of  people  stood  in  the  square  and  watched.  Ev 
ery  man  who  could  lift  a  hand  was  impressed 
into  service  at  the  brakes,  the  bucket  lines,  or  in 
removing  furniture.  In  spite  of  the  desperate 
work  of  the  firemen,  it  looked  as  if  the  whole 
street  would  go.  Sam,  who  had  forgotten  all 
about  his  property,  running  about  on  roofs  and 
ladders,  lifting  huge  weights,  taking  his  turn  at 
the  brakes,  suddenly  thought  of  the  office,  and 
rushed  towards  the  square.  Then  he  heard  loud 
cheers,  and  saw  a  sight  that  stirred  him  to  his 
heels.  Up  the  street  came  a  shining  engine,  trail 
ing  a  stream  of  sparks  in  its  wake,  and  drawn  by 


274  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

two  splendid  black  horses  in  a  stretching  gallop. 
Behind  came  a  second  engine,  drawn  by  three 
gray  horses  leaping  like  deer,  two  hose-reels  fol 
lowing;  and  behind  them  a  barge  drawn  by  the 
Major's  four,  filled  with  swaying  helmeted  men. 
Straight  to  the  double  bridge  they  swung  and 
stopped,  the  barge  horses  ploughing  the  ground 
for  yards  before  they  could  pull  up.  In  a  trice  the 
hose  was  unwound,  coupled,  and  six  heavy 
streams  reinforced  the  torrent  from  the  town 
engines. 

At  seven  o'clock,  Sam,  dirty,  disheveled, 
scorched,  haggard,  and  tired  to  death  limped 
into  the  Major's  hotel. 

"Major,"  he  said,  "I  want  a  room  and  a  bath, 
a  quart  of  milk,  and  I  don't  want  to  be  dis 
turbed." 

When  he  had  taken  a  long,  soapy  scrub,  he 
drank  the  milk  slowly,  crawled  into  bed,  and  fell 
into  a  dreamless  sleep.  It  was  seven  o'clock  that 
evening  when  he  awoke,  ravenous. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A    CELEBRATION 

IT  was  the  last  of  September  and  the  nights 
were  growing  cool.  Sam  had  passed  his  exam 
inations  brilliantly,  had  been  sworn  in  at  the 
Capital  City,  and  was  now  an  accredited  member 
of  the  Rockaway  Bar.  On  his  return  he  had  been 
invited  to  partake  of  a  congratulatory  supper  at 
the  Squire's.  Doctor  Barry,  Miss  Ellis,  the  Cap 
tain,  the  Senator,  Miss  Hilton,  Ben,  and  Polly 
were  there.  The  supper  had  been  all  that  could 
be  expected,  even  with  so  good  a  cook  as  the 
Squire's.  Polly,  now  an  extremely  beautiful  girl 
of  between  seventeen  and  eighteen,  but  recently 
graduated  into  "real  long  dresses,"  had  presided 
with  the  gracious  dignity  of  a  thoroughbred. 
Both  the  Captain  and  the  Senator  had  made 
speeches  of  congratulation,  rich  in  choice  classi 
cal  and  literary  quotations,  and  quaint  origin 
alities.  Then  they  sat  at  ease  about  the  fireplace, 
and  the  men  smoked  while  the  ladies  sipped  their 
black  coffee  from  tiny  cups  of  fragile  and  price 
less  china. 

"Squire,"  said  the  Senator,  "what  became  of 
old  Lem  Peterson,  of  West  Stratford,  your  old 


276  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

client  in  the  Ice  Company  case?  I  remember  him 
as  a  very  original  character  with  a  strong  liking 
for  stimulants." 

"Oh,  Lem,"  laughed  the  Squire;  "I  ought  not 
to  laugh,  for  Lem,  poor  chap,  is  dead.  But  even 
when  dying,  he  was  amusing  and  original.  I  was 
laughing  at  what  happened  the  last  day  I  saw 
him.  I  heard  he  was  sick  and  went  down  on  pur 
pose  to  see  him.  His  brother  Ike  came  to  the  door 
and  said,  '  Goshamighty !  Squire,  I  be  right  glad 
ter  see  yer.  Lem  is  goin'  fas',  and  I  want  yer  sh'd 
see  'im.  He  allers  sot  considerable  store  by  yer.' 

"So  I  went  up  to  Lem's  room.  Lem  lay  there 
with  his  eyes  shut,  breathing  very  loudly.  He 
was  evidently  far  gone.  Doctor,  here,  was  stand 
ing  by  his  bedside  feeling  his  pulse.  I  tried  to  go 
back,  but  Ike  would  n't  let  me,  saying  that  Lem 
had  asked  for  me  that  afternoon.  There  was  n't 
a  word  said  for  a  moment,  but  finally  Ike  said, 
'Brother  Lem,  Squire  Branch  has  come  to  see 
you.'  Lem  made  no  response;  did  n't  even  open 
his  eyes.  Then  Ike  said  again,  a  little  louder, 
'Brother  Lem,  Squire  Branch  is  here.'  This  time 
Lem  nodded  his  head  a  bit,  and  made  as  if  he 
wished  to  speak,  and  the  doctor  gave  him  a 
stimulant.  Then  he  opened  his  eyes,  looked  at 
me,  and  slowly  said,  while  a  sort  of  dry  smile 
wrinkled  the  corners  of  his  eyes  and  a  glint  of 
amusement  shone  for  a  moment  in  them,  'Squire, 


A   CELEBRATION  277 

I  only  —  wanted — ter  ask  yer  'f  new  rum  wuz  still 
legal  tender  in  old  Elmtown.'  Then  he  relapsed 
into  unconsciousness  and  never  spoke  again. 

"Lem  had  a  brother  Simeon,  who  was  very  re 
ligious  and  also  very  mean,"  continued  the 
Squire.  "His  hired  men  always  said  if  he  would 
have  his  bills  of  fare  a  good  bit  longer  and  his 
grace  before  meat  a  good  bit  shorter,  he  would 
get  along  better.  He  gave  all  his  boys  the  names 
of  great  preachers,  and  he  had  three,  Starr  King, 
Henry  Ward  Beecher,  and  Jared  Sparks.  But, 
poor  fellows,  they  could  n't  live  up  to  their  names. 
Starr  King  Peterson  went  West  and  was  lynched 
for  horse-stealing.  Henry  Ward  Beecher  Peter 
son  went  to  state  prison  for  burglary,  and  Jared 
Sparks  Peterson  entered  a  similar  institution  as 
an  habitual  criminal." 

"Doctor,"  said  Sam,  addressing  old  Doctor 
Barry,  who  sat  smoking  and  looking  into  the  fire, 
"who  was  the  most  interesting  patient  you  ever 
had  in  your  local  practice?" 

"Well,  Sam,"  replied  the  doctor,  removing  his 
cigar,  "that  is  quite  a  question  when  you  con 
sider  how  long  I  have  been  here  in  practice.  I 
have  had  all  kinds,  all  classes,  all  ages,  all  degrees 
of  intelligence." 

He  smoked  a  while  reminiscently,  while  a  hu 
morous  light  appeared  in  his  eyes  and  queer 
laughing  wrinkles  at  their  corners. 


278  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Really,  Polly,  if  Doctor  is  going  to  tell  some 
of  his  medical  stories,  I  think  we  had  better  go 
into  the  other  room,"  said  Miss  Hilton,  laughing 
as  she  rose  and  slipped  her  arm  through  Polly's. 

"  Not  the  slightest  need  of  it,  ladies,"  said  the 
Doctor,  laughing  in  his  turn;  "this  story  is 
absolutely  free  from  any  unintelligible  medical 
terms.  Something  you  can  readily  understand 
and  appreciate." 

"  That  is  the  trouble,  it  is  too  practical.  At  all 
events,  I  would  like  to  see  Polly's  room  since  she 
had  the  new  paper  put  on  and  the  new  dressing- 
case.  We  will  be  back  in  a  few  minutes,  so  make 
the  most  of  your  opportunity,  gentlemen,"  re 
plied  Miss  Hilton,  as  the  gentlemen  all  rose 
while  the  Squire  handed  them  to  the  door  with  a 
profound  inclination. 

"Well,  to  return  to  our  muttons,"  resumed  the 
Doctor,  "the  most  interesting  patient  was  old 
Elijah  Percival,  the  most  polite,  courteous,  punc 
tilious,  gentlemanly  old  ramrod  in  the  state. 
Really  a  very  fine  old  gentleman,  with  the  man 
ners  of  the  Court  of  France.  In  his  old  age  he  had 
a  rather  unusual  kind  of  softening  of  the  brain. 
He  did  not  become  childish,  but  if  anything  more 
polite  than  ever,  more  stiff-backed,  more  old- 
fashioned.  He  could  not  realize  that  he  was  in 
any  way  feeble,  and  accordingly  walked  out  every 
time  he  took  a  notion.  His  memory  for  detail 


A   CELEBRATION  279 

was,  however,  somewhat  impaired,  and  on  these 
occasions  he  would  array  himself  in  coat  and  vest, 
high  collar,  stock  or  choker,  spend  a  half -hour  in 
the  proper  adjustment  of  his  neckcloth  and 
gloves,  and  then  issue  forth,  resplendent  to  his 
waist,  but  utterly  devoid  of  trousers.  To  see  a 
mortified,  indignant,  and  red-faced  relative  or 
nurse  escorting  homeward  a  polite  and  bowing 
gentleman  without  trousers,  and  followed  by  a 
crowd  of  cheering  youngsters  was  a  very  frequent 
and  cheerful  sight. 

"Occasionally,  to  vary  his  industries,  he  would 
take  a  pail,  go  to  a  neighbor's  front  door,  and 
work  the  door  knocker  up  and  down  violently, 
and  wonder  why  the  water  did  n't  come.  On  one 
occasion,  concluding  that  the  pump  was  frozen, 
although  it  was  July,  he  went  back  to  his  house, 
procured  a  pail  of  hot  water,  returned,  and 
poured  the  hot  water  through  the  letter  slot  in 
the  neighbor's  door,  and  again  worked  the 
knocker  until  forcibly  removed. 

"He  would  never  precede  a  lady  into  a  room 
downstairs  or  follow  her  upstairs.  These  traits  of 
courtesy  were  so  ingrained  into  his  very  fibre  that 
they  lasted  until  his  death.  Indeed,  a  very  funny 
thing  happened  but  a  few  days  before  his  death. 
His  nurse,  for  he  was  then  very  feeble,  had  got 
him  ready  for  bed,  and  said,  '  Now,  Mr.  Percival, 
your  bed  is  ready,  the  covers  are  turned  down, 


280  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

and  it  is  getting  late.  I  think  you  had  better  get 
into  bed.'  With  a  bow  such  as  Beau  Nash  might 
have  made,  and  with  his  hand  on  his  heart,  the 
gallant  old  gentleman  said,  'But,  Madam,  after 

you." 

"Mr.  —  ah  —  Randolph,  what  particular 
branch  of  the  law  do  you  propose  to  follow?" 
asked  the  Senator,  when  the  laughter  ceased. 

"General  practice,  I  hope,  Senator,"  said  Sam; 
"I  hope  to  try  cases  in  court.  I  think  I  shall  like 
that,  but  I  like  office  and  probate  work  and  con 
veyancing.  I  really  like  it  all,  but  I  fancy  I  would 
prefer  court  and  jury  work." 

"Do  your  plans  for  the  future  include  political 
activity,  or  merely  an  interest  in  the  matter  gen 
erally?" 

"I  have  an  interest  in  politics,  of  course,  and 
I  have  some  very  well-defined  ideas  of  what  I 
should  like  to  do  in  local  politics.  But  I  certainly 
do  not  intend  to  have  anything  interfere  with  my 
profession." 

"Would  you  mind  acquainting  me  with  your 
ideas,  young  sir?"  said  the  Captain. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  replied  Sam.  "They  are 
simple  enough.  I  do  not  believe  in  electing  to  any 
office  an  incompetent  man  or  an  immoral  man,  or 
a  man  who  is  unreliable.  I  think  indifference  is 
the  bane  of  the  country  life.  For  three  years  I 
have  seen  men  elected  here  in  this  town  to  offices 


A   CELEBRATION  281 

of  dignity  and  responsibility,  whose  immorality, 
whose  indecency,  has  been  a  byword  in  this  town. 
I  have  seen  reputable  men  publicly  advocating 
their  election.  I  think  it  is  the  duty  of  every  de 
cent  man  to  object  to  a  thing  of  this  kind  as  an 
insult  to  every  resident  of  our  town." 

'Then  you  are  to  be  a  reformer  are  you?'* 
asked  Doctor  Barry. 

"  If  by  reformer  you  mean  a  man  who  will  vote 
against  abuses  and  against  immorality  and  inde 
cency  and  moral  indifference,  I  am  a  reformer. 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  you  mean  a  man  who  goes 
about  preaching,  and  neglecting  his  own  affairs, 
while  endeavoring  to  induce  people  to  look  better 
after  theirs,  then  I  am  emphatically  not  a  re 
former,"  replied  Sam. 

"But  still  a  reformer  in  a  way,"  replied  the 
Doctor,  smiling. 

'Yes,  but  in  the  way  every  man  should  be  a 
reformer;  that  is,  if  the  ordinary  citizen  would 
insist  upon  office-holders  doing  their  duty,  would 
vote  for  such  men  only  as  they  had  reason  to  be 
lieve  would  do  their  duty,  and  would  put  them  on 
the  official  black  list  whenever  they  failed  to  do 
at  least  the  best  they  could  in  the  line  of  duty, 
there  would  be  precious  little  call  for  reform." 

:'That  is  true  enough,"  said  Ben  quietly,  "but 
the  trouble  appears  to  be  that  the  principle  you 
speak  of  is  not  practiced  in  practical  politics,  al- 


282  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

though  its  recognition  as  a  principle  is  boasted  of 
as  the  basic  principle  upon  which  each  party  is 
founded.  Whenever  a  person  actually  attempts 
to  practice  that  principle  consistently  and  hon 
estly,  he  is  termed  a  reformer,  and  is  either  ostra 
cized,  outlawed,  with  a  price  upon  his  head,  or  put 
to  political  death  without  the  benefit  of  clergy." 

"Might  I  ask,  Samuel,"  said  the  Senator, 
"what  your  politics  might  be?" 

"I  am  a  Republican,  and  a  fairly  consistent 
one,  too,  I  believe,"  replied  Sam. 

;'Then,  as  a  Republican  you  would  undoubt 
edly  bow  to  the  will  of  the  majority,  would  you 
not,  sir?" 

"Why,  yes,  Senator,  I  should,  I  suppose.  That 
is,  if  you  mean  I  should  not  bolt  a  nomination.  I 
should  not  go  as  far  as  that,  although  I  would  not 
vote  for  a  man  whom  I  could  not  trust,  even  if  he 
were  indorsed  by  my  party.  I  would  simply 
scratch  his  name.  I  would  not  vote  for  the  oppo 
site  party,  because  that  would  be  indorsing  a 
principle  I  did  not  believe  in." 

"I  am  afraid,  Samuel,  you  would  be  —  ah  - 
stigmatized  as  an  Independent,  in  this  vicinity, 
at  least,"  said  the  Senator,  in  the  tone  of  one  pro 
nouncing  a  death  sentence. 

"Well,  I  confess  I  don't  like  the  word  'Bolter,' 
but  there  are  lots  of  worse  things  you  can  call  a 
man  than  an  'Independent." 


A   CELEBRATION  283 

"And  the  terms  'Reformer'  or  'Independent* 
are  not  such  as  would  invite  political  or  —  ah  — 
professional  confidence.  And  that  fact  might 
militate,  sir,  against  success  in  your  profession." 

:'You    forget,    gentlemen,"    said    the    Squire 
dryly,  "that  I  have  been  an  'Independent' 
ever  since  I  came  here." 

"Pardon  me,  Squire,"  said  the  Captain,  "I  ap 
prehend,  sir,  that  neither  my  brother,  the  Sena 
tor,  nor  I  myself  have  forgotten  that  very  remark 
able,  sir,  very  remarkable  fact.  But  in  your  case 
it  was  a  bit  different.  It  takes  a  very  strong  man 
to  do  that,  sir,  a  very  strong  man." 

;'Yes,  I  had  to  fight,  and  fight  hard,  but  I 
think  it  did  me  good.  Sam  likes  to  fight  as  well  as 
I  ever  did,"  said  the  Squire. 

Sam  colored  with  pleasure.  "I  am  afraid  I  do 
like  opposition.  I  suppose  that  is  one  reason  I 
thought  of  becoming  a  lawyer.  The  other  reason 
is  Mr.  Branch,"  said  Sam. 

"Have  you  made  up  your  mind,  Samuel,  just 
what  office  you  will  try  for  first?"  said  the  Cap 
tain,  with  a  profound  bow. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  made  up  my  mind  a  year  ago.  I 
shall  become  a  candidate  for  County  Solicitor." 

"When,  for  kind  Heaven's  sake?"  said  the 
Squire,  in  astonishment,  sitting  up  and  nearly 
dropping  his  pipe. 

"I  shall  put  a  notice  in  the  Elmtown  Crier  this 


284  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

week  and  send  one  to  the  Brookmouth  Chronicle; 
that  is,  Mr.  Branch,  unless  you  prefer  not  to  have 
me  run,"  said  Sam. 

"No,  no,  Sam.  I  don't  object  to  it,  only  it  is  a 
bit  sudden.  I  think  as  you  do  that  Langton  has 
been  pretty  slack  in  his  methods,  and  there  is 
good  ground  for  asking  for  a  change.  But  of 
course  you  don't  expect  to  get  it  the  first  time?" 
asked  Mr.  Branch. 

"No,  of  course  not.  If  I  can  get  a  half-dozen 
delegates  or  even  two  or  three,  I  shall  have  made 
a  beginning.  Then  in  two  years  I  shall  try  again. 
If,  however,  a  good  square  man  comes  up  as  can 
didate,  who  will  promise  to  keep  things  reason 
ably  clean,  I  will  withdraw.  I  am  not  set  on 
being  County  Solicitor  for  the  honor  or  the 
money,  but  there  are  a  good  many  abuses  in  this 
county  that  ought  to  be  stopped.  It  does  n't  take 
a  three  years'  residence  to  find  that  out." 

At  ten  o'clock,  Sam  and  Ben  took  leave  of  the 
Squire  and  Polly  and  strolled  down  the  street 
together.  The  Senator,  the  Captain,  the  Doctor, 
Miss  Ellis,  and  Miss  Hilton  had  preceded  them  in 
the  family  carriage,  a  species  of  almost  Colonial  or 
pre-Revolutionary  ark,  with  huge  leather  springs. 

After  the  guests  had  left,  Polly  turned  to  the 
Squire,  put  her  arm  over  his  shoulder,  and  said, 
"Uncle  Ira,  are  you  glad  that  Sam  is  going  into 
politics?" 


A   CELEBRATION  285 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  in  a  way  I  am.  If  I  felt  that  he 
was  going  to  neglect  his  profession  or  lose  his 
ideals  by  becoming  a  politician  only,  I  should 
object  very  seriously.  But  Sam  is  one  in  a  thou 
sand,  and  I  am  not  afraid  for  him.  He  will  get 
some  hard  raps,  but  hard  raps  never  yet  hurt  a 
man  of  strength  and  courage,  and  Sam  has 
plenty  of  both." 

"But  I  have  heard  you  say  that  a  lawyer  can 
do  no  better  than  to  attend  exclusively  to  his  pro 
fession." 

;'Yes,  that 's  true  enough,  my  young  lady," 
said  the  Squire,  pulling  her  ear,  "but  becoming 
County  Solicitor  or  Attorney-General  or  a  judge 
of  a  court  is  directly  in  the  line  of  his  profes 
sion,  and  politics  is  the  necessary  path  to  get 
there." 

"But  people  have  told  me  that  you  might  have 
been  a  judge,  or  the  Attorney-General,  or  go  to 
Washington  or  had  anything  you  wanted  without 
trying,"  insisted  Polly. 

"And  because  some  one  told  you  that,  you 
thought  it  must  be  so,  did  you,  Miss  Innocence?  " 
laughed  the  Squire. 

She  nodded  brightly. 

"It  reminds  me  of  an  old  man  named  Beri 
Caverly  who  came  to  me  once  in  great  indigna 
tion,  stating  that  a  certain  saloon  keeper  had 
spread  the  report  that  his  son,  Jim  Caverly,  was 


286  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

dead,  and  had  caused  his  family  a  very  great  deal 
of  trouble,  worry,  sorrow,  expense,  and  several 
other  things.  I  told  him  if  the  man  had  started  a 
report  of  that  nature,  and  had  done  it  willfully  or 
ignorantly,  he  would  be  liable  to  any  one  injured 
by  the  report.  So  he  left  the  case  in  my  hands, 
and  I  accordingly  wrote  the  man  a  letter,  telling 
him  I  had  a  claim  against  him  for  collection,  and 
asking  him  to  call  at  my  office  forthwith.  He 
came  promptly,  took  a  seat,  and  I  informed  him 
what  I  wanted  to  see  him  for. 

'Wull,  Misser  Branch,  sor'  (he  was  an  Irish 
man  and  a  real  one) ,  '  wud  yez  be  af ther  knowin' 
Jim  Caverly,  th'  omadhaun?' 
"I  told  him  yes. 

"An    did   yez   iver   hear    ony   good   of  the 
droonken  divil?' 

"I  told  him  that  was  not  the  question.    The 
question  was,  'Did  he  start  that  story?" 

"Sure,  mon,  an'  Oi  dud  thot.' 

"And  you  knew,  did  you  not,  Mike,  that  he 
was  alive  when  you  told  the  story?' 

"An  Oi  dud  not  know  thot,  sor.' 

'What  reason  had  you   for  believing  him 
dead?' 

"Fwat  rason,  sor,  th'  bist  rason,  he  sid  so 
himself.' 

"He  said  he  was  dead,  Mike!  what,  are  you 
crazy?' 


A   CELEBRATION  287 

" '  An  it 's  not  crazy  Oi  am,  sor.  Hearken  an* 
Oi '11  till  ye.  'Twaz  this  way.  Jim  Caverly,  the  di- 
vil,  kim  to  me  saloon.  He  wanted  a  dhrink.  His 
dhrink  wuz  a  glass  of  whiskey  'n'  two  glasses  of 
beer.  A  dom  bad  mixsthure,  sor.  Wull,  Oi  wud 
not  give  him  a  dhrink  'til  he  paid  me.  So  finally 
he  sid,  "Mike,  if  Oi  'm  aloive  at  six  o'clock  to 
night,  Oi  pay  yez,"  an'  he  crossed  his  troat,  he 
dud,  sor.  Wull,  sor,  Oi  let  him  have  a  dhrink,  an' 
six  o'clock  came  an'  Jim,  the  divil  an'  ahl,  he 
niver  came.  So  I  knowed  he  wuz  dhed,  an'  Oi 
toald  it,  sor.  An'  he  is  aloive,  yez  sa-a-y?  Wull, 
Oi  shuld  n't  belave  all  Oi  hear." 

Polly  laughed  a  bubbling  laugh.  "  You  do  have 
some  funny  cases,  Uncle;  tell  me  another,  one 
about  —  let  me  see  —  about  -  -  well,  about  Mr. 
Lovell.  He  is  funny,  and  I  should  think  he 
would  have  some  funny  cases." 

"Yes,  Tom  has  some  funny  ones.  You  see  he 
gets  very  earnest  in  his  cases,  and  believes  in 
them  so  thoroughly  that  it  takes  a  good  deal  to 
convince  him  he  is  wrong.  Generally  it  is  impos 
sible,  but  he  had  one  case  a  while  ago  that  con 
vinced  him  he  was  on  the  wrong  side.  A  client  of 
his  had  brought  suit  against  a  client  of  mine  for 
refusal  to  accept  an  expensive  couch  he  had  or 
dered.  My  client  said  it  was  n't  built  as  he  or 
dered  it.  That  it  was  not  made  of  as  expensive 
materials  and  was  not  made  strong  enough.  Well 


A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

the  witnesses  were  put  on,  and  after  the  evidence 
I  made  the  first  argument,  and  of  course  I  argued 
as  strongly  as  I  could  the  iniquity  of  trying  to 
palm  off  on  my  client  a  frail,  flimsy,  cheaply  built 
couch  instead  of  the  one  he  expected  to  have. 
Tom  was  getting  madder  and  madder  every  mo 
ment,  and  when  I  got  through  he  jumped  up  as 
if  he  was  sitting  on  a  hot  stove,  and  the  way  he 
sailed  into  my  client  and  me  was  really  sinful. 
Then  he  came  to  the  question  of  the  materials  and 
strength  of  the  couch.  'Why,  your  Honor,'  he 
yelled,  waving  his  fists  in  the  air,  'strong!  it  was 
as  strong  and  lasting  as  the  eternal  hills.  What 
better  example  of  its  strength  do  you  want  than 
this?'  and  Tom  gave  a  running  jump  and  lit  right 
in  the  middle  the  couch,  expecting  to  bound 
lightly  back.  Instead  of  this,  there  was  a  prodigi 
ous  crash,  a  rattle  of  springs,  a  rending  of  ticking, 
and  Tom  disappeared  in  a  whirl  of  excelsior,  dust, 
ticking,  and  broken  slats.  After  hard  work  we 
managed  to  pry  him  out  and  pull  the  springs  out  of 
him.  He  looked  as  if  he  had  been  rescued  from  the 
ash  barrel.  The  Court,  who  had  thrown  aside  the 
judicial  ermine  to  assist  in  the  rescue,  promptly 
ascended  the  bench,  resumed  his  seat,  and  said, 
The  Court  desires  no  better  example  of  the 
strength  of  the  couch  and  gives  judgment  for  the 
defendant." 

Polly  laughed  again.    "Uncle,"  she  said  tim- 


A  CELEBRATION  289 

idly,  "have  you  ever  regretted  not  going  to 
Washington?" 

The  Squire  looked  at  her  sharply.  "What  has 
come  over  you,  Polly?  Why  do  you  ask  such  a 
question?  I  am  glad  I  did  not  go,  really  glad.  I 
could  have  gone  if  I  had  wanted  to." 

''That 's  all  I  wanted  to  know,"  said  Polly, 
kissing  him. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

RUNNING   FOR   OFFICE 

THE  Elmtown  Crier  of  the  Friday  following 
contained  this  personal  item:— 

To  the  legal  voters  of  the  County  of  Rock- 
away  :  I  take  this  opportunity  of  announcing  my 
self  a  Republican  candidate  for  the  position  of 
County  Solicitor  at  the  November  election.  If 
elected,  I  shall  make  an  honest  attempt  to  en 
force  the  existing  laws  without  fear,  favor,  or  po 
litical  bias. 

SAMUEL  RANDOLPH. 

EIMTOWN,  September  4,  188-. 

This  notice  caused  some  surprise,  a  good  deal 
of  amusement,  and  some  little  indignation. 

The  Brookmouth  Chronicle,  a  daily,  promptly 
came  out  with  an  editorial  couched  in  sarcastic 
terms.  It  wished  to  know  who  Samuel  Randolph 
was,  and  why  he  had  come  forth  from  the  jungle 
of  oblivion  at  this  psychological  moment  to  save  a 
bleeding  country?  It  begged  its  generous  readers 
to  furnish  it  with  some  information  as  to  Samuel 
Randolph,  his  race,  age,  and  previous  condition 
of  servitude.  Was  he  a  Lincoln,  a  Washington, 


RUNNING  FOR  OFFICE  291 

or  "some  Cromwell,  guiltless  of  his  country's 
blood"?  It  called  upon  some  honest  yeoman  to 
stand  forth  and  explain  how  the  Republic  had  so 
long  stood  firm  without  the  support  of  Samuel 
Randolph,  hitherto  unknown,  and  why  it  had  not 
fallen  crashing  from  its  proud  height.  It  opined 
that,  while  no  indications  of  its  approaching  dis 
solution  had  so  far  been  apparent  to  officials  who 
had  been  for  years  intrusted  with  the  proud 
privilege  of  conserving  its  welfare  and  its  good 
name,  yet  it  thanked  Heaven,  for  having  sent 
this  Seer,  Prophet,  and  Protector,  Samuel  Ran 
dolph,  the  Great  Unknown. 

The  Brookmouth  Guillotine,  an  opposition  pa 
per,  remarked  that  while  it  was  undoubtedly  true 
that  a  complete  change  in  county  officials  should 
be  made,  and  in  no  office  more  than  that  of 
County  Solicitor,  it  thought  this  announcement 
by  an  unknown  man  and  a  newcomer  into  the 
state  a  colossal  piece  of  assurance,  to  say  no 
thing  of  impudence.  That  it  had  understood  that 
Mr.  Randolph  had  been  admitted  to  the  bar  for 
about  a  week,  or,  to  be  exact,  ten  days,  and  that 
it  might  be  well  for  him  to  wait  until  the  ink  on 
his  certificate  was  dry. 

The  Lamprey  River  Indicator  ventured  the 
opinion  that  the  legal  voters  of  Rockaway  county 
knew  and  appreciated  the  high  character  and 
efficient  services  of  the  present  incumbent  in  the 


292  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

office  far  too  well  to  consider  for  a  moment  the 
claims  of  a  city  man  who  was  volunteering  to 
show  us  country  bumpkins  how  to  run  our  coun 
try  affairs. 

In  short,  the  newspapers,  one  and  all,  laughed 
Sam's  announcement  to  scorn,  and  made  merry 
over  his  audacity  in  bringing  his  name  before 
the  public,  and  as  copies  of  these  papers  were 
promptly  sent  him,  he  had  the  rather  doubtful 
pleasure  of  seeing  himself  as  others  saw  him. 

Sam  grinned  somewhat  sheepishly  over  these 
articles,  while  the  Squire  laughed  heartily,  telling 
Sam  that  on  the  whole  they  were  rather  mild  than 
otherwise, and  that  should  he  at  anytime  become 
a  really  dangerous  factor  in  the  campaign,  he 
would  be  busy  in  dodging  far  heavier  literary 
brickbats  than  these.  Polly,  however,  was  very 
indignant  and  did  not  take  it  at  all  kindly  that 
Sam  did  not  proceed  to  the  editorial  rooms  in  suc 
cession  and  mop  the  entire  premises  with  their 
editorial  bodies. 

In  spite  of  the  ridicule  that  followed  Sam's 
shying  his  castor  into  the  ring,  some  of  the  old- 
line  men  were  a  bit  worried.  They  knew  perfectly 
well  that  some  of  their  officials  had  neglected  the 
duties  of  their  offices,  that  some  were  incompe 
tents,  and  that  some  were  corrupt,  and  they 
knew  that  a  strong,  honest,  likable  young  fellow 
would  find  many  followers.  So  they  made  in- 


RUNNING   FOR  OFFICE  293 

quiries  and  probed  around  until  they  found  that, 
although  they  need  have  but  little  fear  for  the 
present  campaign,  Sam  was  just  the  man  to  com 
mand  enthusiastic  support  after  a  few  years.  So 
they  began  to  arrange  very  quietly  and  carefully 
to  choose  as  delegates  to  the  County  Convention 
men  on  whom  they  could  rely  to  pledge  them 
selves  to  vote  for  the  incumbents,  and  in  this  they 
were  eminently  successful,  as  they  were  men  of 
great  tact,  shrewdness,  and  liberality. 

On  the  other  hand,  Sam  made  no  open  cam 
paign  beyond  seeing  a  few  of  his  friends  in  differ 
ent  towns.  A  good  deal  of  work  was,  however, 
done  for  him  by  some  of  the  better  class  of  citi 
zens,  both  in  Elmtown  and  in  other  places  where 
the  Squire  was  known,  and  by  men  who  were 
disgusted  with  the  spiritless  prosecutions  of  the 
present  Solicitor.  Sam  made  one  speech  in  Brook- 
mouth,  the  stronghold  and  residence  of  a  major 
ity  of  the  county  officials.  It  was  rather  an  un 
usual  thing,  but,  as  it  had  been  suggested  to  him 
that  he  ought  to  make  some  public  statement  of 
his  platform,  he  thought  the  fairest  way  to  his 
opponent  was  to  make  such  statement  in  that  op 
ponent's  bailiwick. 

He  had  no  difficulty  in  hiring  a  hall  or  billing 
the  town,  although  it  cost  him  about  twice  or 
three  times  the  usual  amount,  but,  as  Sam  said, 
"luxuries  evidently  came  high." 


294  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

On  the  evening  of  the  speech,  Sam  found  the 
hall  crowded  to  the  doors  with  a  very  strong  pro 
portion  of  square-jawed,  red-faced  gentry,  all 
smoking  and  evidently  looking  for  fun,  trouble, 
or  a  combination  of  both. 

As  he  entered  the  hall,  he  had  to  shoulder  his 
way  through  the  crowd  to  the  platform,  which  he 
found  deserted,  the  committee  of  introduction 
having  failed  to  appear.  However,  he  stepped 
upon  the  platform,  removed  his  coat,  looked  at 
his  watch,  and  advanced  to  the  desk,  opened  his 
mouth  to  speak,  and  was  greeted  with  a  tremen 
dous  uproar  of  yells,  whistling,  stamping,  cat 
calls,  and  a  string  of  sarcasms. 

Sam  smiled  and  waited  until  they  became  quiet 
again,  and  a  second  time  attempted  to  speak,  only 
to  be  greeted  by  a  louder  tumult  than  before.  A 
half-dozen  times  this  happened.  Finally,  Sam  took 
a  seat  on  the  edge  of  the  table,  took  out  a  cigar 
from  his  case,  carefully  cut  off  the  end,  lighted  it, 
and  calmly  smoked,  surveying  the  audience  good- 
naturedly,  as  if  they  were  an  interesting  study. 

The  noise  promptly  stopped,  and  a  few  hand 
claps  were  heard.  Sam  took  no  notice,  but 
smoked  imperturbably,  removed  his  cigar 
nicked  the  ashes  from  the  tip  with  his  little  finger 
and  took  a  fresh  pull  at  it. 

The  crowd  became  impatient,  "Well,  why 
don't  you  say  something?"  cried  a  big  voice. 


RUNNING   FOR  OFFICE  295 

"Have  you  all  finished?"  asked  Sam,  smiling. 

"Yes,  go  ahead,  get  it  off  your  mind,  lether- 
gosmith,"  cried  the  crowd. 

"Gentlemen  and  Muckers,"  said  Sam  crisply, 
but  with  a  most  engaging  smile,  "to  the  former  I 
apologize  for  smoking  in  their  presence,  to  the 
latter  for  not  smoking  a  dudeen,  a  bulldog,  a  corn 
cob,  or  a  clay.  I  suppose  you  are  waiting  to  hear 
the  usual  thing,  that  you,  the  workingmen,  are 
the  pillars  of  our  national  prosperity  and  the 
backbone  of  our  financial  success;  that  you  are 
the  real  rulers  of  the  nation,  and  all  the  rest  of 
that  home-made  confectionery  with  which  polit 
ical  speakers  usually  lubricate  and  beguile  you. 
But  I  am  not  here  for  the  purpose  of  beguiling 
you,  flattering  you,  or  winning  you  over  by  trea- 
cleized  oratory.  I  am  here  to  tell  you  what  I 
stand  for  in  this  campaign,  and  incidentally,  per 
haps,  what  I  think  of  you.  And  perhaps,  for  the 
purpose  of  convincing  you  that  I  am  not  here  to 
flatter  you,  I  will  say  in  the  beginning  what  I 
think  of  you.  I  think  the  reception  you  have 
given  me  is  one  of  the  rankest  exhibitions  of  bad 
manners  and  muckerism  I  have  ever  seen.  I  have 
seen  it  done  to  public  speakers  in  England,  and  I 
have  been  ashamed  of  the  stigma  to  the  tradi 
tional  fair-play  spirit  that  Englishmen  talk 
about,  but  I  did  not  expect  to  meet  it  in  decent 
New  England.  Now,  men  of  Brookmouth,  I  am 


296  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

ashamed  of  you,  of  every  man  of  you  that  took 
part  in  this  demonstration,  and  if  there  is  still  any 
doubt  of  my  estimate  of  you,  I  can  state  it  in  still 
plainer  words.  Do  you  wish  me  to  go  on  or 
not?" 

For  a  moment  there  was  an  absolute  silence. 
The  audience  had  not  bargained  for  this,  and  it 
rather  took  their  breath  away.  They  stared  at  a 
powerfully  built  young  chap,  standing  cool  and 
quiet,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  a  half- 
smile  on  his  face.  They  rather  liked  his  frank 
ness  and  they  admired  his  courage. 

"Go  ahead,  young  feller,"  bellowed  the  big 
voice  again,  "we  can  stand  it  if  you  can." 

"Thanks,"  said  Sam  with  a  smile;  "here  goes 
then."  And  he  launched  into  his  speech,  a 
straightforward,  candid  review  of  the  condition 
of  the  county,  the  laxness  in  the  enforcement  of 
its  laws,  the  tolerance  of  and  indifference  to  im 
morality,  and  the  open  acknowledgment  of  the 
existence  of  an  almost  graded  scale  of  prices  in  the 
purchase  of  votes.  He  scored  the  public  roundly 
for  its  indifference,  for  its  acquiescence  in  ques 
tionable  methods  of  obtaining  political  office,  and 
he  roundly  scored  the  public  official,  who,  after 
taking  a  solemn  oath  to  do  his  duty,  yet  allowed 
himself  to  be  so  wrought  upon  by  public  senti 
ment  as  to  neglect  or  refuse  to  perform  the  duties 
under  the  plain  interpretation  of  law. 


RUNNING  FOR  OFFICE  297 

He  was  not  again  interrupted  during  his 
speech,  and  when  he  had  finished,  a  number  of 
the  audience  came  forward  and  thanked  him  for 
his  plainness  and  his  courage.  But  the  papers  of 
the  following  morning  gave  the  most  jaundiced 
and  prejudiced  accounts  of  the  affair,  called  Sam 
a  traducer  of  the  fair  fame  of  his  county,  the  foul 
bird  that  defiled  its  own  nest.  They  accused  him 
of  wild  exaggerations,  ignorant  conjectures,  and 
positive  untruths.  They  extolled  the  ability, 
honesty,  tact,  courtesy,  shrewdness,  and  experi 
ence  of  the  County  Solicitor  as  superior  to  any 
thing  the  county  had  seen  for  many  years.  They 
belabored  the  sheer  "brass-mounted,  nickle- 
plated  cheek"  of  this  self-centred,  opinionated 
"yearling"  as  something  unprecedented.  In 
deed,  so  abusive  did  they  become  that  several  of 
the  leading  papers  in  the  state  took  up  the  mat 
ter  and  gave  a  verbatim  report  of  the  meeting, 
signed  by  several  independent  citizens  of  Brook- 
mouth,  that  quite  changed  the  complexion  of 
things,  and  Sam  found  a  gratifying  wave  of  sym 
pathy  for  him  daily  increasing  in  extent. 

Among  the  lawyers  Mr.  Blunt  had  talked  most 
disparagingly  of  Sam's  ability.  As  he  was  very 
much  given  to  underrating  his  brother  lawyers, 
he  was  regarded  as  a  sort  of  "head  hunter"  by 
them,  and  under  ordinary  circumstances  they 
paid  very  little  attention  to  what  he  said.  But  as 


298  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

he  had  never  forgotten  Sam's  testimony  in  the 
Drake  v.  Blunt  assault  case,  and  as  he  was  by 
nature  a  most  revengeful  man,  he  quite  outdid 
himself  in  the  malicious  slurs,  innuendoes,  and 
exaggerations  concerning  Sam. 

This  made  the  Squire  very  angry.  However 
amusing,  or  of  little  importance  he  considered  the 
press  articles,  his  professional  etiquette  would 
not  allow  him  to  pass  over  Blunt's  outrageous  vio 
lation  of  its  traditions,  and  he  adopted  this  means 
of  humiliating  his  victim.  There  was  a  certain 
case  for  trial  at  the  October  Term  at  Brook- 
mouth,  which  Sam  had  prepared  for  the  Squire 
with  great  care.  Under  the  statute,  "In  case  of 
the  death  or  disability  of  any  person  in  conse 
quence  of  intoxication  from  the  use  of  liquor  un 
lawfully  furnished  by  a  party,  any  person,  de 
pendent  in  any  manner  upon  the  person  injured 
for  means  of  support,  could  recover,  of  the  party 
unlawfully  furnishing  such  liquor,  all  damage  or 
loss  sustained  in  consequence  of  such  death  or 
disability." 

It  happened  that  one  Jerry  Devlin  had  sold  a 
quart  of  the  vilest  possible  whiskey  to  a  man  al 
ready  considerably  under  the  influence  of  several 
heavy  slugs  of  the  same.  As  it  was  a  very  cold 
night,  the  man  became  beastly  drunk,  was  ejected 
from  the  saloon,  staggered  to  the  river  bank,  and, 
becoming  bewildered  and  stupefied,  lay  down 


RUNNING   FOR  OFFICE  299 

and  was  found  the  next  morning  dead  from  ex 
posure.  A  coroner's  jury  returned  a  verdict  of 
death  from  exposure,  but  the  widow  of  the  dead 
man  came  to  Elmtown  and  laid  the  case  before 
the  Squire,  who  promptly  brought  suit  against 
Devlin,  who  retained  Mr.  Blunt  to  defend. 

Sam  had  thoroughly  prepared  the  case  under 
the  direction  of  the  Squire,  had  briefed  the  law, 
and  arranged  the  order  of  procedure  most  care 
fully,  and  it  occurred  to  the  Squire  that  the  best 
way  of  answering  Mr.  Blunt's  strictures  on  Sam's 
ability,  was  to  let  Sam  try  the  case  and  win  out, 
which  he  thought  Sam  could  easily  do.  Sam,  not 
without  misgivings,  agreed,  and  when  the  case 
was  tried,  Sam  obtained  a  thumping  verdict,  after 
a  trial  in  which  Sam  had  all  the  better  of  Mr. 
Blunt.  Sam  was  cool,  determined,  and  pleasant- 
spoken,  except  with  the  defendant  Devlin,  whom 
he  cross-examined  with  a  savage  vigor  that  left 
his  victim  at  the  finale  a  limp  mass  of  clothes  and 
perspiration.  Blunt,  on  the  contrary,  lost  his 
temper  early  in  the  trial,  and  was  caught  napping 
time  and  again  by  his  younger  opponent.  But  it 
was  Sam's  argument,  direct,  comprehensive,  and 
relentless  that  won  the  most  favorable  comment. 
The  fact  that  he  was  a  candidate  for  County 
Solicitor  had  attracted  the  attention  of  the  law 
yers  and  politicians,  and  the  court-room  was 
filled. 


300  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

As  the  jury  retired,  a  prominent  politician  said 
to  a  friend,  "  God  help  a  criminal  if  that  man  gets 
to  be  County  Solicitor.  We  must  stop  that  any 
way";  and  when  the  verdict  was  announced 
shortly  afterwards,  the  faithful  dispersed,  shak 
ing  their  heads  doubtfully  and  looking  very 
serious. 

The  Elmtown  caucus  was  held  early  in  the 
season,  the  week  before  the  County  Convention. 
Sam's  followers  thought  that  if  he  could  get  a 
part  of  the  Elmtown  delegates,  it  would  naturally 
aid  him  in  the  convention;  his  opponents  argued 
that,  should  they  be  able  to  elect  delegates  hostile 
to  him,  it  would  force  him  to  enter  a  conven 
tion  without  a  single  delegate  from  his  own  town 
which  would  decidedly  prejudice  his  chance  of  a 
respectable  showing  in  the  convention. 

Among  the  candidates  voted  for  at  the  Repub 
lican  caucus  were  the  representatives  to  the  Gen 
eral  Court.  Now,  if  Sam  had  been  content  to  let 
things  take  their  course,  he  probably  could  have 
at  least  divided  the  delegation,  but  he  had  long 
ago  made  up  his  mind  to  oppose  the  nomina 
tion  of  certain  men  for  any  public  office  or  any 
trust. 

He  had  talked  the  matter  over  with  a  few  of 
his  friends,  who  had  advised  him  strongly  against 
his  course,  as  tending  to  stir  up  unnecessary  op 
position,  and  to  show  Sam  as  a  reformer. 


RUNNING  FOR  OFFICE  301 

But  their  advice  went  for  nothing.  He  was 
determined.  "If  I  don't  get  a  single  delegate  in 
the  convention,  I  will  object  to  the  nomination 
of  John  Wetherbee  for  any  office.  I  would  n't 
vote  for  him  if  I  knew  I  could  get  the  nomination 
for  County  Solicitor  unanimously." 

"But,  Sam,"  said  Ben  earnestly,  "what  harm 
can  he  do  in  the  legislature?" 

"Harm!  the  harm  is  done  the  moment  you 
elect  him.  It  is  outrageous  to  bring  our  young 
people,  and  our  young  men  in  particular,  up  in 
the  idea  that  a  man's  moral  character  stands  for 
nothing.  That's  the  harm,  if  the  man  should  die 
the  next  day  after  his  election." 

"But,  Sam,  you  are  sure  to  make  powerful 
enemies  and  to  get  some  of  your  friends  waxy 
with  you.  Is  it  worth  it  at  this  time?" 

"Look  here,  Ben,  when  I  can't  go  into  politics 
with  clean  hands,  and  without  dodging  issues  or 
making  deals  to  advance  my  chances,  I  will  keep 
out." 

'The  trouble  is,  Sam,  unless  you  do  some 
thing  of  the  kind,  you  will  never  get  in." 

"Well,  I  shall  have  your  vote,  and  a  few  others, 
Ben,  and  I  would  rather  have  a  few  clean  votes  of 
clean  men  than  a  raft  of  smirched  and  muddy 
ones." 

"All  right,  Sam,"  said  Ben;  "you  will  do  as 
you  please  I  suppose,  and  there  is  no  argument 


A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

the  other  way,  but  I  hope  it  won't  cost  too  much 
in  delegates." 

The  night  of  the  caucus  the  hall  was  crowded, 
and  Captain  Hilton  was  in  the  chair.  The  plans 
of  the  old-line  Republicans  to  carry  the  caucus  for 
the  old  County  Solicitor  had  brought  out  all  of 
Sam's  friends,  a  good  many  of  whom  were  friends 
and  employees  of  John  Wetherbee. 

On  the  call  for  nominations  for  members  of  the 
legislature,  Everett  Taylor  got  up  and  in  a  set 
speech  of  eulogy  nominated  John  Wetherbee,  and 
sat  down  amid  thunderous  applause.  When  the 
applause  had  subsided,  a  half-dozen  voices  were 
heard  to  second  the  nomination. 

" Gentlemen,"  said  the  Chairman,  "y°u  have 
heard  the  name  of  John  W7etherbee  proposed; 
are  you  ready  for  the  question?" 

"Question !  Question ! "  shouted  a  dozen  voices. 

"All  those  in  favor  of  — " 

"Mr.  Chairman!"  rung  out  a  voice  as  Sam 
rose. 

"Mr.  Randolph,"  said  the  moderator. 

Sam  deliberately  walked  from  the  side  of  the 
hall  to  the  platform,  turned  and  faced  the  audi 
ence.  It  was  plain  that  he  was  laboring  under 
considerable  suppressed  excitement,  but  his 
voice  was  steady  and  clear,  and  his  manner  cool 
and  deliberate. 

"Gentlemen,"   said   Sam,   "citizens   of  Elm- 


RUNNING  FOR  OFFICE  303 

town,  I  have  lived  here  three  years,  and  during 
that  time  I  have  been  treated  with  great  kindness 
by  its  citizens.  A  man  who  was  not  born  in  a 
large  city,  who  has  not  lived  the  greater  part  of 
his  life  in  hotels  and  apartments  cannot  realize  as 
I  can  what  it  means  to  be  a  citizen  of  a  town  like 
this,  what  it  means  to  have  a  part,  even  a  small 
part,  in  the  government  of  a  town  where  one  can 
number  nearly  every  citizen  as  an  acquaintance. 
And  when  it  is  one's  good  fortune,  as  it  is  mine,  to 
look  forward  to  a  continued  residence  in  such  a 
town,  there  is  one  thing  he  must  do  if  he  is  to  be 
worthy  of  the  name  of  good  citizen,  and  that  is  to 
openly  oppose  and  denounce  any  act  that  does  or 
may  bring  discredit  to  the  town,  its  institutions, 
or  its  citizens." 

There  was  an  audible  whispering,  and  a  rustle 
and  creak  of  settees,  as  men  squirmed  in  their 
seats  uneasily  and  looked  at  one  another  in  dis 
quietude. 

"I  have  seen  some  things  in  this  town,  some 
few  things,  I  am  glad  to  say,  that  have  surprised 
and  saddened  me.  I  have  seen  reputable  citizens 
advocating  the  election  of  notoriously  unfit  men 
for  positions  of  responsibility,  honor,  and  trust, 
and  I  have  seen  no  man  stand  up  and  oppose  it, 
and  I  have  seen  men  cast  their  votes  not  unwill 
ingly  for  the  election  of  such  men." 

He  paused  and  there  was  a  renewed  rustle  and 


304  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

audible  murmur.  Wetherbee  and  his  crowd  were 
getting  hot,  the  faces  of  the  audience  were  drawn 
and  serious. 

The  speaker  leaned  forward,  marking  his  words 
with  his  right  hand,  his  voice  rising  as  he  went  on. 
"  To-night  I  have  seen  it  again.  The  shameful 
sight  of  a  reputable  man  advocating  to  a  body  of 
intelligent  men  as  I  know  you  are,  and  reputable 
men  as  I  believe  you  to  be,  the  nomination  and 
election  of  a  man  whose  moral  standing  is  a  dis 
grace  to  the  community,  whose  shameless  amours 
with  women,  whose  open  and  public  violations  of 
all  the  rules  of  decency  and  morality  have  been 
for  years  the  theme  of  conversation  in  every  hotel 
office,  saloon,  and  corner  of  the  town  where  young, 
old,  and  middle-aged  men  congregate.  I  - 

But  here  there  was  an  uproar.  The  audience 
had  risen  to  its  feet,  a  dozen  men  were  clamoring 
for  recognition,  the  chairman's  gavel  pounded  for 
order. 

Finally  he  recognized  Mr.  Taylor,  who  was 
bawling  and  red  in  the  face. 

"Mr.  Chairman,"  yelled  Taylor,  "the  speaker 
is  out  of  order!  I  call  him  to  order!" 

"Put  the  damned  reformer  out,"  yelled  one. 

"Throw  him  out!  Let  him  go  back  to  his  big 
city,  the  damned  dude!"  yelled  others. 

The  crowd  rose  to  its  feet,  and  began  to  surge 
towards  the  front.  Ben,  Simmons, Williams,  Mad, 


RUNNING  FOR  OFFICE  305 

Brown,  old  John,  the  Machine  Works  crowd  and 
wonder  of  wonders!  Bill  Evans,  marshaled  by 
Ben,  circled  around  the  sides  of  the  hall,  and 
formed  a  solid  phalanx  in  front  of  and  ajound 
Sam. 

"Come  on,  and  put  him  out!  You'll  have  a 
good  time  of  it.  Come  on!  Try  it  once!"  '^ 

Those  behind  pushed  and  yelled,  those  in 
front  held  back  and  cursed.  Several  seats  were 
broken  and  those  standing  on  them  were  hurled 
to  the  floor. 

The  Chairman  shouted  for  order  and  pounded 
like  a  blacksmith.  "Mr.  Emmons!"  he  yelled, 
"Mr.  Emmons  has  the  floor." 

Then  Mr.  Emmons  made  a  most  savage 
speech,  denouncing  Sam  in  hot  terms,  and  called 
upon  the  meeting  to  rebuke  the  "presumptuous 
insolence  of  an  upstart  outsider,"  and  sat  down 
amid  tumultuous  applause. 

He  was  followed  by  Mr.  Abram  Poindexter, 
who  could  not  contain  his  indignation  at  this  un 
warranted  and  unwarrantable  assault  on  the 
reputation  of  one  of  Elmtown's  most  solid,  sub 
stantial,  and  worthy  citizens,  and  closed  by  a 
fervent  appeal  for  fair  play,  which  the  meeting  at 
once  granted  by  hooting,  yelling,  and  stamping 
when  Sam  attempted  to  reply. 

On  proceeding  to  a  vote,  Wetherbee  was  nom 
inated  by  a  strong  majority,  although  a  surprising 


306  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

number  of  voters  yelled  "no"  with  all  the 
strength  of  their  lungs,  and  at  the  close  of  the 
evening  Sam  had  not  got  a  single  delegate. 

Bu*  when,  a  week  after,  the  convention  was 
heldj'Sam  numbered  twelve  delegates  from  differ 
ent  twwns,  and  although  badly  beaten,  he  felt 
that  he  had  made  a  very  creditable  showing. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

COMPARISONS 

SAM  took  his  defeat  most  philosophically,  as  he 
felt  that  he  had  made  a  fairly  good  start.  It 
was  evident  that  his  opponents  took  the  same 
view  of  the  matter  that  he  did,  for  a  conference 
was  held  one  evening  in  Mr.  Blunt's  office,  in 
which  the  County  Solicitor,  Wetherbee,  Everett, 
Emmons,  and  others  of  the  faithful  were  present. 
Just  what  was  said  at  the  meeting  did  not  ap 
pear,  but  the  result  became  apparent  and  within 
a  few  days. 

Sam  had  been  working  late  at  the  office  one 
evening,  and  finished  his  work,  turned  off  the 
gas,  locked  the  door,  and  was  just  stepping  into 
the  street,  when  he  was  accosted  by  two  men,  one 
of  whom  was  the  Brookmouth  Deputy  Sheriff, 
who  told  him  he  was  under  arrest. 

"Under  arrest!"  said  Sam  in  astonishment; 
"what  is  the  charge?" 

"Slander!"  replied  the  officer;  "I  hev  a  war 
rant  here." 

"A  warrant  for  slander?  Why,  man,  spoken 
words  are  not  indictable  except  when  in  violation 
of  a  statute.  Let  me  see  your  warrant,"  de 
manded  Sam. 


308  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Here  you  be,"  said  the  officer;  "now,  look  it 
over  and  come  along  with  us.  We  are  in  a  hurry.'* 

"I  guess  you  will  come  pretty  near  waiting 
until  I  see  this  warrant  before  you  arrest  me  for 
slander,  my  friend,"  said  Sam,  stepping  under  a 
street  light  and  opening  the  paper. 

"Warrant!  this  is  a  capias  authorizing  you  to 
arrest  me;  no  warrant  at  all,  but  your  authority 
is  all  right,"  said  Sam,  returning  the  paper. 
"Well,  come  down  to  the  Squire's,  I  will  give 
bail." 

"You  be  a-goin'  to  jail,  young  man;  them  wuz 
my  orders  and  I  am  going  to  obey  them." 

"Who  gave  you  those  orders?"  demanded 
Sam. 

"The  lawyer  who  issued  the  writ,  his  name  is 
on  the  back  of  it,"  replied  the  Deputy  stoutly. 

"Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Blunt,  eh,"  said  Sam.  "When 
did  he  give  you  this  writ?" 

;<This  morning,"  replied  the  Deputy. 

"Where?"  asked  Sam  crisply. 

"In  his  office  here  in  Elmtown,"  replied  the 
Deputy. 

"Why  did  you  wait  until  to-night?  You  could 
have  found  me  at  any  time  to-day." 

"I  ain't  a-goin'  to  answer  no  more  questions. 
You  be  under  arrest,  and  me  and  my  friend  are 
going  to  lodge  you  in  jail." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Sheriff,  but  before  you  execute 


COMPARISONS  309 

your  commission,  just  allow  me  to  say  one  word. 
I  demand  an  opportunity  to  get  bail,  and  you  are 
bound  to  give  me  an  opportunity,  and  you  ought 
to  know  it,  if  you  know  anything.  Now,  you  and 
your  lawyer  friend  have  put  up  this  job  for  a  lot 
of  political  bummers  to  take  a  fall  out  of  me. 
Just  one  word  more,  I  will  furnish  bail  to-night, 
and  if  you  know  what  is  good  for  you,  you  '11  take 
me  to  Mr.  Branch's  house  now.  If  you  don't,  and 
attempt  to  take  me  to  jail,  you  '11  have  the  liveli 
est  time  you  ever  had  in  your  life.  Now,  start 
proceedings,"  said  Sam  hotly,  stepping  back  to 
the  wall. 

"Be  you  a-goin'  ter  resist  an  officer  with  a  legal 
process?"  roared  the  Deputy. 

"That's  just  what  I  mean  to  do,"  said  Sam. 
"I  not  only  will  resist  arrest,  but  I'll  knock  your 
two  heads  together  and  duck  you  in  that  fountain. 
I  know  my  right,  and  I  know  yours,  and  if  you  do 
take  me  to  jail,  I  '11  have  you  hunting  bail  before 
morning." 

The  Deputy  and  his  assistant  looked  uneasy 
and  very  serious,  and  conferred  in  subdued 
whispers. 

"Look  yere,  Mr.  Randolph,"  said  the  Deputy, 
"I  ain't  got  nothin'  agin'  you,  but  my  orders 
wuz  to  tek  you  an'  tek  you  prompt  and  suddin'. 
Naow,  what  be  I  a-goin'  tew  dew?" 

"Well,"  said  Sam,  with  a  smile,  "I  haven't 


310  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

anything  against  you  unless  you  exceed  your 
authority.  But  you  know  you  have  a  right  to 
take  bail." 

"  Wa-a-1,  yes,  I  spusso  'f  the  bail  is  good,"  said 
the  Deputy  dubiously. 

"Well,  that's  what  you  are  going  to  insist  on, 
of  course.  Now,  come  along  and  we  will  see  about 
it." 

"  Wa-a-1, 1  spose  thet  's  the  best  we  kin  do,"  said 
the  Deputy,  and  they  proceeded  arm  in  arm  to 
the  Squire's. 

Oh,  but  the  Squire  was  an  angry  man  when  he 
heard  Sam's  story.  A  man  who  seldom  used 
strong  language,  he  swore  like  the  Army  of  Flan 
ders,  and  so  terrified  the  Deputy  and  his  assist 
ant  that  he  got  from  them  the  whole  story  of  the 
plan  to  jail  Sam.  In  a  few  minutes  they  were  on 
the  way  to  the  Hilton  farm.  The  Hilton  brothers 
regarded  it  as  a  privilege  to  sign  the  bail  bond 
with  the  Squire,  and,  clad  in  various  parti 
colored  dressing-gowns  and  carpet  slippers,  and 
exceedingly  skinny  of  legs  and  grisly  of  throat, 
signed  their  names  boldly,  and  one  and  all 
pledged  themselves  to  take  the  field  against  the 
"political  hell-hounds,"  to  quote  aptly  from  the 
Senator's  burning  words,  "whenever  and  wher 
ever  the  Squire  would  lead."  They  next  pro 
ceeded  to  William  Billowell's,  who  appeared  in  his 
nightcap  and  was  "By  gad!  mighty  glad  of  the 


COMPARISONS  311 

opportunity  of  putting  a  spoke  in  Wetherbee's 
and  Blunt's  wheel." 

Having  secured  his  signature,  they  went  to 
Caleb  Ten-ill's,  who  promptly  appeared  in  a  long 
nightshirt  and  calfskin  boots,  and  appended  his 
individual  signature  and  those  of  his  six  sons  as 
members  of  the  firm  of  Caleb  Terrill  and  Sons, 
leaving  no  more  room  on  the  bond. 

"There,  Mr.  Deputy  Sheriff,"  said  the  Squire, 
"tell  your  counsel,  with  my  compliments,  that 
before  he  gets  through  this  case  he  and  Wether- 
bee  will  wish  they  were  in  South  America." 

The  next  day  the  Daily  Chronicle,  the  Guillo 
tine,  and  the  Lamprey  River  Indicator  contained 
lurid  accounts  of  the  arrest  and  jailing  of  Samuel 
Randolph,  but  recently  candidate  for  the  office 
of  County  Solicitor,  on  a  charge  of  criminal  libel. 
The  day  after,  their  editors  were  kept  busy  in 
explaining  to  their  readers  the  reasons  for  their 
extraordinary  perversion  of  the  facts. 

Wetherbee  and  Blunt,  however,  talked  loudly 
and  boastfully  of  what  they  would  do  when  they 
got  before  a  jury  and  at  the  January  Term  of 
court  entered  the  writ,  after  having  served  a  no 
tice  on  Sam's  attorney  to  be  ready  for  trial.  This 
was  exactly  what  the  Squire  wished,  and  he  at 
once  sent  Mr.  Blunt  a  copy  of  a  plea  of  justifica 
tion,  alleging  that  Plaintiff  Wetherbee  was  asking 
for  election  to  a  public  office  of  responsibility; 


312  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

that  his  moral  character  was  of  such  a  nature  as 
to  make  his  election  to  such  office  a  great  injury 
to  the  public,  and  that  the  public  good  required 
an  open  discussion  of  his  character  as  well  as  of 
his  ability  and  integrity;  that  the  defendant,  in 
criticizing  his  character  and  imputing  to  him 
gross  immorality,  was  acting  within  his  rights  so 
long  as  he  did  not  pervert  or  grossly  exaggerate 
facts  or  accuse  the  plaintiff  falsely;  that  inas 
much  as  the  defendant  had  made  general  charges 
of  immorality  and  indecency  against  the  plain 
tiff,  he  was  ready  to  specify  the  certain  acts  of 
immorality  and  of  indecency  of  which  the  plain 
tiff  had  been  guilty,  to  wit :  that  on  the  twentieth 

day  of here  followed  a  long  list  of  charges 

with  dates,  places,  and  nature  of  the  acts,  which 
the  defendant  averred  he  was  ready  to  prove,  and 
prayed  for  judgment  and  his  costs. 

When  Mr.  Blunt  received  a  copy  of  the  docu 
ment,  he  cursed  roundly  for  a  few  moments,  and 
then  hurriedly  went  to  Wetherbee's  store.  When 
Wetherbee  read  it,  his  rage  and  consternation 
knew  no  bounds.  He  stamped  up  and  down  his  of 
fice,  alternately  cursing  his  counsel  for  advising 
the  prosecution  of  Sam,  and  the  County  Solicitor, 
Emmons,  Everett,  and  the  others  for  arranging 
the  plan  of  the  campaign.  Blunt  retorted  with 
spirit,  and  a  violent  quarrel  arose  between  them 
which  nearly  terminated  in  blows  or  apoplexy. 


COMPARISONS  313 

That  evening  a  hasty  conference  was  held,  and 
it  was  decided  that  the  appearance  of  the  plead 
ing  on  the  court  records  must  be  avoided  at  any 
cost,  and  a  committee  was  appointed  to  wait  on 
the  Squire  and  see  what  could  be  done.  The  meet 
ing  was  held  at  the  Squire's  office  in  Sam's  pres 
ence,  and  was  a  very  bad  quarter  of  an  hour  for 
the  committee,  who  were  fairly  scorched  by  the 
Squire's  blazing  wrath.  As  to  a  settlement,  the 
Squire  would  do  nothing  until  they  had  signed 
a  written  retraction  of  their  charges  against 
Sam,  which  was  to  appear  simultaneously  in 
the  Brookmouth  Chronicle,  the  Guillotine.,  and  the 
Lamprey  River  Indicator.  Its  appearance  the 
next  day  in  these  papers  made  them  writhe  in 
spirit,  but  intensified  their  hatred  of  Sam. 

The  winter  and  spring  passed  without  any 
startling  event.  After  the  burning  of  Alvy's 
hotel,  Sam  had  taken  rooms  in  a  private  house, 
and  had  installed  therein  the  few  articles  of  fur 
niture  that  had  escaped  the  flames.  His  meals 
he  took  at  restaurants  about  town.  An  oyster 
stew  or  clam  chowder  at  Charlie  Felsen's,  who 
could  cook  oysters  and  clams  better  than  any 
man  in  the  world,  so  Sam  thought,  a  steak  or  a 
chop  at  Billy  McDougall's,  who  furnished  steaks 
as  big  as  door  mats  and  an  inch  and  a  half  thick 
for  an  exceedingly  moderate  price,  a  course  din 
ner  at  Harvey's,  a  country  Delmonico,  or  hot 


314  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

dogs  at  the  lunch  cart.  This  touch  of  bohemian- 
ism  appealed  strongly  to  Sam,  who  had  traveled 
enough  to  get  a  strong  liking  for  independence. 
He  never  ate  or  drank  at  the  saloons,  as  he  did  not 
care  for  the  company  he  met  there,  and  he  felt 
that  his  political  enemies  would  make  capital  out 
of  his  every  action  that  could  in  any  way  be  dis 
torted  to  his  injury. 

In  January,  Tom  arrived,  unannounced,  cheer 
ful,  debonair,  and  enthusiastic.  As  the  January 
Term  of  court  was  then  in  session,  Tom  had  an 
opportunity  of  seeing  the  Squire  in  action,  and 
also  of  watching  Sam  conduct  cases  both  with 
the  Squire  and  alone,  and  honest  Tom  perhaps 
felt  for  the  first  time  his  own  uselessness  in  hav 
ing  neither  business,  profession,  nor  trade. 

"  Hang  it  all ! "  he  said  to  himself,  "  we  all  pitied 
poor  Sam  when  he  had  to  leave  New  York  and  go 
to  work,  and  here  he  is  an  active  member  of  a 
great  profession  and  a  man  recognized  as  one 
with  whom  people  will  have  to  reckon  before 
long.  What  do  I  amount  to,  or  what  do  any  of 
Sam's  old  set  amount  to?  Just  loafers,  idlers, 
dawdlers,  money  spenders,  and  cumberers  of  the 
earth." 

But  Tom  was  of  too  sunny  a  disposition  to 
remain  low-spirited  long,  and  while  Sam  was 
plugging  away  absorbed  in  his  profession,  Tom 
hunted  up  Alvy  and  his  cronies  at  Alvy's  stable 


COMPARISONS  315 

office,  where  they  still  gathered,  and  stored  up  in 
his  memory  their  quaint  sayings,  their  ludicrous 
stories,  and  the  healthy  philosophy.  He  took 
Polly  skating  and  sleighriding,  or  sat  before  the 
Squire's  fireplace  telling  her  amusing  experiences 
of  his  in  New  York,  Bar  Harbor,  Cape  May,  and 
other  places  where  he  had  spent  his  time  and 
much  of  his  father's  money. 

Here  Sam  joined  them  often  on  his  return  from 
the  office  or  from  court,  and  laughed  and  listened 
while  Tom  ran  on  in  his  whimsical  fashion.  Of 
course  Sam  was  glad  to  see  Tom  again  and  to  talk 
over  with  him  the  thousand  things  of  the  past  that 
now  seemed  so  far  away  to  him,  but  at  his  heart 
Sam  felt  a  sort  of  resentful  uneasiness  at  his 
return,  his  very  evident  partiality  for  Polly's 
society,  and  her  unaffected  pleasure  in  his. 

Tom  was  a  good  fellow,  an  amusing,  happy-go- 
lucky  chap,  but  surely  not  the  man  for  a  girl  like 
Polly.  Of  course,  he  did  n't  wish  to  marry  Polly. 
She  was  a  child,  for  one  thing,  and,  for  another, 
Sam  was  still  bitterly  sore  over  his  experience 
with  Ethel,  and  fancied  himself  still  in  love  with 
her.  He  never  mentioned  her,  even  to  Tom,  al 
though  he  would  have  liked  to  know  how  she  was 
getting  along.  He  had  occasionally  run  across 
items  in  the  Boston  paper  chronicling  New  York 
events  which  mentioned  Ethel  as  a  very  popular 
young  married  woman,  in  the  boxes  at  the  horse 


316  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

show,  on  the  top  of  a  drag  at  the  races,  or  one  of  a 
committee  in  charge  of  a  bazaar  in  the  interest  of 
sweet  charity. 

Sam  had  not  been  to  New  York  since  he  came 
to  Elmtown.  He  had  been  asked  by  the  Squire 
several  times  to  go,  but  he  had  shown  so  much 
reluctance  that  the  Squire  had  gone  in  his  place. 
But  during  the  legislative  session,  which  had  been 
prolonged  beyond  all  precedent,  a  bill  was  passed 
which  brought  to  Sam's  attention,  and  that  very 
forcibly,  two  of  his  New  York  acquaintances. 
This  was  the  passing  of  a  bill  incorporating  the 
Connecticut  River  Improvement  Club,  which 
was  stated  in  the  bill  to  be  for  the  purpose  of 
raising,  importing,  and  improving  the  breed  of 
horses  and  other  domestic  animals.  For  this  pur 
pose  the  corporation  was  to  have  the  right  to 
hold  fairs,  races,  and  contests  of  speed,  skill,  and 
endurance,  and  offer  purses,  prizes,  premiums, 
and  sweepstakes,  and  charge  and  receive  entrance 
fees.  The  bill  further  provided  for  the  appoint 
ment  of  police  officers  to  preserve  order  and  to 
prevent  all  violations  of  law  in  relation  to  book- 
making,  pool-selling,  gambling,  for  the  prohibi 
tion  of  the  maintenance  of  any  betting-ring  or 
place  for  the  placing  of  bets ;  for  the  posting  on 
the  grounds  of  the  corporation  of  placards  for 
bidding  any  form  of  gambling.  The  bill  was 
drawn  with  the  greatest  skill  and  apparent  fair- 


COMPARISONS  317 

ness,  and  under  a  suspension  of  rules  in  both 
houses  had  passed  almost  unanimously.  Of  the 
ten  men  whose  names  appeared  as  charter  mem 
bers  of  the  corporation  were  John  C.  Van  Cleves, 
Robert  Tiverton,  and  John  W.  Wetherbee. 

Sam  came  into  the  office  one  morning  and 
found  the  Squire  reading  the  Capital  City  Adver 
tiser,  which  always  gave  the  legislative  reports  in 
full. 

"Here,  Sam,"  said  the  Squire  shortly,  "read 
this  and  tell  me  how  it  strikes  you." 

Sam  took  the  article,  read  a  moment,  then 
gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"It's  safe  to  bet  there  is  something  wrong  with 
it  when  Colonel  Van  Cleves  and  Bob  Tiverton 
are  in  it,"  he  remarked. 

"What  do  you  say  about  Wetherbee's  name?" 
said  the  Squire. 

"He  is  the  catspaw,"  answered  Sam,  reading. 

Sam  finished  the  article,  pondered  a  moment 
with  drawn  brows,  then  handed  it  to  the  Squire. 

"I  think,  Mr.  Branch,  that  this  bill  is  the  rank 
est  piece  of  legislative  myopia  I  ever  heard  of. 
That  section  providing  for  civil  liability  for  pool- 
selling  and  book-making,  and  exempting  them 
from  criminal  liability,  is  a  plain  case  of  illegal 
discrimination.  Is  n't  that  so?"  asked  Sam. 

"All  of  that,  my  boy,  one  of  the  most  adroitly 
conceived  frauds  in  the  history  of  legislation. 


318  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

But  it  is  important  to  you,  because,  Sam,  that 
bill  will  make  you  County  Solicitor  in  two  years 
from  now,"  said  the  Squire,  with  decision. 

"County  Solicitor!"  said  Sam,  in  surprise; 
"how  do  you  figure  that  out?" 

"Plain  as  a  carbuncle  on  a  man's  neck," 
replied  the  Squire.  "Mark  my  words,  Sam,  there 
will  be  a  howl  about  this.  In  a  month  from  now, 
if  not  before,  three  fourths  of  the  members  of  the 
Senate  and  House  will  be  trying  to  explain  why 
they  allowed  themselves  to  be  buncoed  into  pass 
ing  this  bill,  and  the  newspapers  will  be  rapping 
them  in  every  issue.  I  believe  that  a  very  great 
majority  of  our  senators  and  representatives  will 
be  perfectly  sincere  in  saying  that  they"  were  de 
ceived,  for  the  bill  is  drawn  with  the  guile  of  the 
Devil  himself.  Then  people  will  forget  about  it 
until  the  races  are  held,  and  then  there  will  be 
another  howl,  but  no  interference  with  the  races. 
When  the  election  of  a  new  County  Solicitor  is 
held,  the  man  who  will  prosecute  book-makers, 
pool-sellers,  and  gamblers  under  the  criminal 
law  is  the  one  who  will  be  elected  County 
Solicitor." 

"  What  fools  they  were ! "  exclaimed  Sam.  "  If 
they  had  left  out  that  exemption  clause,  there 
would  have  been 'no  real  opposition,  but  the  peo 
ple  will  fight  discrimination  to  the  last  ditch." 

The  Squire's  words  were  prophetic.   Within  a 


COMPARISONS  319 

week  after  the  final  adjournment  of  the  session 
an  article  appeared  in  a  leading  weekly  fiercely 
attacking  the  Connecticut  River  Improvement 
Company,  and  a  storm  of  newspaper  comment 
was  stirred  up,  by  which  the  unfortunate  mem 
bers  of  the  Great  and  General  Court  were  lam 
basted  within  an  inch  of  their  political  lives. 

In  March,  Sam  went  to  New  York  for  a  week, 
partly  on  business  for  the  firm,  and  partly  be 
cause  he  felt  that  he  ought  to  go  and  see  whether 
or  not  he  was  thoroughly  weaned  from  his  old 
associations,  and  he  had  a  great  and  overwhelm 
ing  curiosity  to  see  Ethel  in  her  new  role  as  a 
society  woman. 

When  he  alighted  from  the  train  at  the  Grand 
Central  Station,  he  found  Tom  with  a  cab.  Tom 
fell  on  him  joyfully.  After  they  had  manhandled 
one  another,  Sam  piled  his  baggage  into  the  cab, 
and  dismissed  it,  as  he  wished  to  walk  up  Forty- 
second  Street  and  down  Fifth  Avenue  once  more. 
Tom,  who  could  not  quite  understand  Sam's  en 
thusiasm,  agreed  somewhat  doubtfully,  but  was 
still  more  astonished  when  they  arrived  at  Fifth 
Avenue  and  Sam  stopped  at  the  lower  corner  of 
Forty-second  Street  and  signalled  a  five  cent 
'bus. 

"What  under  the  canopy,  Sam,  is  the  matter 
with  you?  Ye  gods!  Ride  in  a  'bus!  Why,  the 
fellows  will  laugh  at  me  for  a  month." 


320  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Let  them  laugh.  That's  what  you  always 
have  to  do  when  you  are  entertaining  a  friend 
from  the  country.  So  pile  right  in  for  Central 
Park.  I  have  n't  been  there  for  nearly  four  years, 
and  I  am  very  anxious  to  find  out  whether  or  not 
an  old  friend  of  mine  is  still  alive.  He  looked 
about  a  hundred  years  old  the  last  time  I  saw 
him,"  said  Sam,  with  a  laugh. 

"Who  is  it?  What  is  his  name?" 

"He  was  called  Jock.  Don't  you  remember 
that  old  blue-nosed  mandrill,  —  a  sort  of  a  dog- 
faced  baboon  that  we  used  to  see  when  we  were 
boys?  That  one  with  the  bald  places  on  his  rump 
and  the  two  peacock  blue  patches  on  his  nose,  and 
horrible  slant  eyes?"  asked  Sam  with  enthusiasm. 

:'Yes,  yes,  Sam,  I  remember  him  now. 
Was  n't  he  a  savage  old  beggar?  I  used  to  dream 
of  him,"  said  Tom.  "Then  there  was  a  bob- 
tailed  monkey  that  had  lost  part  of  its  tail  by 
getting  it  caught  in  a  door.  Do  you  remember  how 
it  used  to  try  and  swing  from  its  trapeze  by  its 
tail  and  what  thumping  falls  it  got,  and  how  kill- 
ingly  it  used  to  look  up  to  the  bar  and  wonder 
what  was  the  trouble?" 

"Tom,  do  you  remember  the  time  you  gave 
snuff  to  the  elephant?" 

"I  guess  I  do;  I  paid  five  dollars  for  it  in  the 
police  court,  and  my  father  did  n't  let  me  go  to 
the  park  for  the  rest  of  the  season,"  said  Tom, 


COMPARISONS  321 

grinning.  "They  say  an  elephant  only  sneezes 
about  once  a  year,  but  that  one  beat  the  record 
all  right.  I  thought  he  would  blow  up  the  build- 
ing." 

"Here  we  are,"  said  Sam,  pulling  the  strap  and 
jumping  out.  "Now  for  some  buns  and  peanuts 
for  the  animals." 

For  an  hour  and  a  half  they  wandered  through 
the  Zoo  with  keen  enjoyment,  and  to  their  great 
delight  Jock  and  the  bob-tailed  monkey  were 
still  alive.  The  familiar  scenes  brought  up  a 
thousand  long-forgotten  events  in  their  boyhood, 
and  when  the  hour  for  closing  came  they  were 
chattering  like  two  boys. 

Then  they  hailed  a  cab,  drove  to  Tom's  lodg 
ings,  bathed,  dressed,  and  went  to  dinner  at 
Sherry's.  It  was  delightful  to  Sam  again  to  sit 
down  to  a  perfectly  ordered  dinner,  with  snowy 
linen,  shining  silver,  and  polished  glass.  Tom 
ordered  the  very  best,  and  it  seemed  to  Sam  that 
he  had  never  eaten  a  better  dinner  or  enjoyed 
himself  as  well.  And  then  he  happened  to  think 
of  that  night  nearly  four  years  before  when  he  had 
met  Ethel  and  had  quarreled  with  Colonel  Van 
Cleves,  and  in  spite  of  himself  he  writhed  in 
wardly.  He  looked  again  towards  that  corner 
where  the  rubber  plants  still  stood,  and  for  a  mo 
ment  the  scene  came  back  so  vividly  that  he 
almost  fancied  she  was  there  again. 


322  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Then  Anthony  and  Jim  Driver  came,  jubilant, 
to  his  table  and  shook  him  powerfully  by  the 
hand,  and  greeted  him  as  a  long-lost  wayward 
brother. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself ,  old 
man?"  Driver  said,  wondering.  "Here  you  are  as 
lean  and  muscular  as  a  college  rowing-man  and 
as  fit  as  a  thoroughbred  steeple-chaser.  Look  at 
Anthony  and  me.  We  have  to  wear  suspenders 
now,  for  a  belt  slips  over  our  hips  unless  we  hitch 
it  round  us  just  under  our  arms.  Bill  Anderson  is 
getting  as  bald  as  a  glass  marble,  and  Bob  Tiver- 
ton  looks  like  a  bass  drum,  and  has  a  complexion 
like  a  cranberry  pudding.  But  you!  why,  man, 
how  in  the  world  do  you  do  it?" 

"By  hard  work,  I  guess,"  said  Sam;  "I  walk  a 
good  deal,  canoe  some,  ride  whenever  I  can,  and 
spar  with  the  gymnasium  boys  several  times  a 
week,  I  work  hard  in  the  office,  and  sleep  like  a 
graven  image." 

"You  will  be  in  at  the  club  to-night,  Tom," 
said  Jim;  "remember  there  is  a  stewards'  meet- 
ing." 

"All  right,  Jim,  I'll  be  there,"  said  Tom. 

"See  you  then,  Sam;  got  to  go  now,"  said  the 
two,  and  away  they  went. 

"They  have  changed  a  lot,  Tom,"  said  Sam 
regretfully.  "What  is  the  reason,  do  they  steam 
it?" 


COMPARISONS  323 

"Late  hours,  a  fast  gait,  no  exercise  and  no 
business.  That  is  the  matter  with  most  of  us.  I 
suppose,  Sam,"  said  Tom  rather  wistfully,  "that 
you  find  some  change  in  me?" 

"You  are  not  looking  quite  as  fit  as  I  should 
like  to  see  you,  Tom,"  replied  Sam,  "but  you  are 
laps  ahead  of  them.  All  you  need  is  a  profession 
or  business  or  some  aim  in  life,  and  regular  exer 
cise,  while  they  will  have  to  unlearn  a  few  things." 

That  evening  at  the  club,  Sam  renewed  his 
acquaintance  with  many  of  his  old  friends,  and 
met  again  some  of  his  college  acquaintances. 
Much  to  his  pleasure  he  found  some  who  were 
keen-eyed,  shrewd  lawyers,  doctors,  or  business 
men,  but  equally  to  his  sorrow  many  of  the  most 
promising  youngsters  had  developed  into  fleshy, 
puffy,  and  unattractive  men,  whose  sole  occupa 
tion  seemed  to  be  the  choosing  of  a  dinner  or  the 
cut  of  their  clothes. 

They  all  appeared  vastly  surprised  at  the 
change  in  Sam,  which  had  added  a  keenness,  con 
fidence,  and  self-reliance  to  his  natural  good  qual 
ities  that  had  made  him  a  favorite  as  a  youth. 

The  next  morning,  Sam,  who  had  become  ac 
customed  to  country  habits  of  early  rising,  was 
up  at  seven  and  in  Tom's  room,  causing  a  sleepy 
protest  from  Tom,  who  refused  to  get  up,  claiming 
that  there  was  no  sense  in  getting  up  in  the  middle 
of  the  night.  Accordingly  Sam,  after  a  cold  bath 


324  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

and  brisk  rubdown,  took  a  walk  through  the 
streets,  stopping  in  a  restaurant  for  a  roll  and  a 
cup  of  coffee,  then  for  an  hour  tramped  over  the 
well-known  streets,  returned  at  half-past  eight, 
and  found  Tom  still  sleeping.  This  time  he  was 
less  patient,  and  slipping  his  arm  under  Tom's 
shoulders,  pulled  his  head  and  arms  over  the  side 
of  the  bed  and  let  go  suddenly. 

Tom  awoke,  clawing  wildly. 

"Sam,  you  ruffian,  I  thought  I  had  fallen  from 
a  church  steeple  five  hundred  feet  high.  That's 
the  most  effective  eye-opener  I  ever  had  yet. 
Gee,  I'm  wide  awake,"  and  he  jumped  from  the 
bed  and  hit  Sam  a  most  tremendous  blow  with 
the  bolster.  Sam  fled  and  Tom  jumped  into  his 
bath.  Then  they  went  to  breakfast  at  Mc 
Dowell's. 

After  breakfast,  Sam  went  first  to  the  largest 
and  most  expensive  store  in  the  city,  where  he 
bought  a  most  beautiful  spring  suit  for  Polly 
from  written  memoranda  made  by  Miss  Ellis, 
who  had  conspired  with  him  to  make  her  eight 
eenth  birthday  memorable.  Then  he  spent  a 
half -hour  with  the  Manhattan  Trust  Company, 
where  he  had  some  business,  an  hour  with 
Brewster  and  Anderson,  a  firm  of  lawyers  with 
whom  the  Squire  had  done  business  for  years, 
and  then  was  free  for  the  day.  They  lunched  at 
one  at  the  Calumet,  and  at  three  were  in  the  sad- 


COMPARISONS  325 

die  bound  for  the  bridle  path  in  the  park.  After 
making  a  turn  or  two  through  the  winding  roads, 
which  were  rapidly  filling  with  riders,  they  began 
to  thread  their  way  through  the  mass  of  carriages 
on  the  carriage  path. 

Suddenly  he  heard  his  name  called.  "Sam! 
Sam!  Mr.  Randolph!"  He  started,  drew  up  his 
horse  sharply,  and  looked  around. 

Just  across  the  road  from  him,  drawn  up  on  the 
side  of  the  path,  was  a  victoria  drawn  by  a  pair  of 
high-headed,  dock-tailed  horses  with  shining 
harness.  The  coachman,  with  his  whip  held  at 
the  right  angle,  his  hands  high,  and  his  eyes  fixed 
on  his  team,  sat  stiffly  on  the  box,  while  at  his 
side,  like  the  coachman  in  cords  and  livery,  his 
arms  folded,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ears  of  the  near 
horse,  and  his  face  preserving  the  stony  gaze  pecu 
liar  to  a  death  mask,  sat  the  groom.  As  the  car 
riage  stopped,  he  sprang  to  the  ground  and  stood 
at  the  horses'  heads,  erect  and  stiff  as  a  hitching- 
post. 

In  the  back  seat  of  the  carriage  sat  two  ladies. 
One,  an  elderly  plain  woman  in  sober  garments, 
evidently  a  duenna,  chaperon,  or  companion  to  a 
handsome,  showily  dressed  young  woman  in 
priceless  furs  of  the  silver  fox.  It  was  Ethel.  Sam 
wheeled  his  horse,  spurred  him  to  the  carriage, 
and  in  a  moment  was  bending  over  her  gloved 
hand. 


326  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Why,  Sam,  is  it  really  you?  What  an  age  of 
ages  it  is  since  we  met." 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Tiverton,"  said  Sam,  smiling;  "it 
has  been  a  long  time.  Nearly  four  years  away 
from  New  York.  Do  you  wonder  that  I  look  thin 
and  old?" 

"Why,  Sam,  I  never  saw  you  looking  so  well 
and  strong.  All  the  rest  of  my  friends  have 
changed  so  much,  but  you  —  how  do  you  manage 
it?"  she  said. 

"Country  air  and  hard  work,  I  suppose.  That 
will  help  any  one." 

"And  is  it  really  so,  that  you  are  a  lawyer  in  a 
country  town  and  are  making  a  name  for  yourself, 
Sam?" 

"It  is  really  true  that  I  am  a  lawyer  and  work 
ing  hard,  but  I  can't  quite  agree  to  the  latter  pro 
position,  Mrs.  Tiverton,"  replied  Sam,  laughing. 

"Mrs.  Tiverton!  how  dreadfully  formal.  You 
used  to  call  me  Ethel  once." 

;<Yes,  but  that  was  very  long  ago.  Y'ou  can 
scarcely  expect  an  obscure  country  lawyer  to  call 
one  of  the  most  prominent  New  York  society  wo 
men  by  her  first  name,  now  can  you,  Mrs.  Tiver 
ton?"  asked  Sam,  with  a  glimmer  of  amusement 
in  his  eyes. 

"Perhaps  not,  but  I  rather  hoped  you  would. 
You  have  not  congratulated  me  on  my  —  ah  — 
marriage,"  she  said,  after  a  while. 


COMPARISONS  327 

"I  have  never  before  had  an  opportunity.  I  do 
now  with  all  my  heart.  You  certainly  have 
everything  to  make  you  happy,  I  am  sure," 
replied  Sam. 

"Ah,  here  comes  Bob,"  said  she,  as  a  puffy, 
red-faced,  heavy  man,  sitting  his  horse  badly, 
and  appearing  very  much  out  of  his  element, 
joined  them. 

"Hullo,  Randolph,"  he  said  familiarly,  and 
with  a  touch  of  insolence. 

"Hullo,  Tiverton,"  replied  Sam  pleasantly, 
offering  his  hand,  which  Bob  took  rather  reluc 
tantly  and  dropped  after  a  lifeless  shake,  say 
ing, - 

"How  did  you  come  to  New  York?  I  thought 
you  were  down  among  the  Indians." 

"Well,  I  have  been,  but  occasionally  one  of 
us  Indians  gets  loose  for  a  few  days  and  runs 
away." 

"Hullo,  there  is  the  Van  Cleves'  carriage.  Ex 
cuse  me,  I  must  speak  to  the  Colonel,"  and  Bob 
rode  off,  jolting  hard  in  his  saddle  and  looking 
very  much  like  a  bag  of  meal. 

Then  Sam  turned  to  Ethel,  who  was  speaking. 

"Sam,  you  will  come  to  see  me  before  you  go 
back,  will  you  not?" 

:' Thank  you,  no;  I  go  back  on  the  midnight 
train  to-night,  and  I  have  more  engagements 
than  I  can  keep,  I  am  afraid,"  replied  Sam. 


328  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"And  you  are  really  contented  in  your  small 
town?"  she  asked  wistfully. 

"Yes,  I  am  contented.  There  have  been  times 
when  I  have  chafed  a  little.  But  I  have  grown 
into  the  life  of  the  place  and  I  love  my  work  and 
my  friends  there,"  said  Sam  earnestly. 

"And  happy?"  she  asked,  almost  in  a  whisper 
as  her  eyes  sought  his. 

"Yes,  happy,"  he  replied,  "as  a  man  can  be 
who  has  health,  friends,  and  an  absorbing  occu 
pation." 

She  looked  away  across  the  park  a  moment. 

"But  I  must  not  detain  you,  your  friend  is 
waiting.  Good-by,  Sam,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"Good-by,"  replied  Sam,  raising  his  hat 
gravely. 

Then  he  wheeled  his  horse  and  rode  off,  joining 
Tom,  who  was  waiting  at  the  entrance  of  the 
drive. 

Ethel  watched  him  as  he  rode  away,  sitting 
erect  and  easy  in  his  saddle.  Then  her  eyes  wan 
dered  to  where  her  husband  sat  on  his  horse  talk 
ing  to  Colonel  Van  Cleves.  His  hat  was  aslant  on 
his  head,  a  round  bald  spot  showed  under  its  rim 
behind.  There  was  a  transverse  wrinkle  in  the 
back  of  his  coat,  his  face  was  flushed  and  perspir 
ing,  his  body  was  shapeless  and  jellylike,  and  she 
turned  away  her  eyes.  Across  the  park  people 
came  and  went,  children  played,  a  park  police- 


COMPARISONS  329 

man  swung  his  club  as  he  sauntered  along,  but 
she  noted  none  of  those  things.  Then  a  passing 
cloud  blotted  out  the  sunlight,  and  everything 
was  gray  and  cold  and  dreary,  a  dreary,  dreary 
world.  She  shivered,  turned  to  the  coachman, 
and  said,  "Home,  Dennis." 

Tom  and  Sam  trotted  on  in  silence. 

Finalty,  Sam  said,  "Tom,  what  a  shame  that 
Ethel  could  not  have  married  you.  She  would 
have  been  happy  with  you  and  New  York.  As  it 
is,  poor  girl,  she  has  been  sacrificed,  sold  to  an 
underbred  cad. 

"Tom,  I  don't  blame  Bob  Tiverton  as  much  as 
I  do  old  Van  Cleves.  God  help  him,  if  I  ever  get  a 
crack  at  him.  He  is  to  blame  for  ruining  that 
poor  girFs  happiness.  If  ever  there  was  a  cold 
blooded  sale,  that  was  one,"  and  he  spurred  his 
horse,  which  plunged  and  reared. 

"Whoa,  old  lady!  easy,  girl!  I  didn't  mean 
that  for  you.  There,  that's  better,"  said  Sam,  as 
he  soothed  his  mount.  "What's  up  for  to-night, 
Tom?  It's  my  last  day  here." 

"Last  day  here!  Whatever  do  you  mean, 
Sam?  I  thought  you  wrere  here  for  a  visit,  not  a 
measly  little  stop-over." 

"I  was,  Tom,  but  the  midnight  train  this  P.M. 
takes  me  back  to  Elmtown.  I  must  get  back." 

"When  did  you  make  up  your  mind?" 

"Five  minutes  ago,  just." 


330  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"I  don't  quite  understand,  Sam,"  said  Tom, 
looking  at  Sam  a  bit  uneasily.  "You  don't  seem 
like  a  broken  man  exactly." 

"  I  '11  tell  you,  Tommy,  my  boy.  One  reason  for 
my  visit  was  business  for  the  Squire.  Another 
was,  and  this  is  a  matter  that  I  have  n't  spoken 
about  to  any  one  but  you,  to  see  whether  or  not  I 
could  see  Ethel  and  find  out  if  I  was  cured.  I 
don't  mind  telling  you,  Tom,  that  I  was  tremen 
dously  cut  up  when  she  threw  me  over,  and  for  a 
long  time  it  seemed  about  an  even  thing  whether 
I  should  go  to  the  devil  or  not.  But  hard  work, 
good  friends,  and  one  or  two  exciting  things  that 
happened  helped  me.  To-day  I  found  out  another 
thing.  I  am  thoroughly  cured.  So  thoroughly, 
that  I  am  almost  ashamed  of  myself.  And  I  want 
to  get  back  as  soon  as  I  can  and  get  to  work.  I 
feel  as  if  I  could  do  a  tremendous  amount  of  good 
work.  The  April  Term  of  court  comes  on  soon 
and  there  is  plenty  to  do  in  preparation.  Tom,  I 
wish  you  were  going  with  me.  Why  don't  you 
try  it  once?  You  New  Yorkers  speak  of  the  ruts 
that  country  people  get  into.  Don't  you  know 
that  your  life  here  is  a  rut.  And  just  as  narrow^  a 
rut  as  was  ever  traveled  by  a  country  wheel?" 

"Yes,  I  do  know  that,  Sam,  but  I'm  afraid  I 
have  traveled  too  long  in  that  rut.  I  'm  not  quite 
equal  to  the  heroic  remedy  of  burning  my 
bridges,  as  you  were." 


COMPARISONS  331 

"Well,  Tom,  mine  were  burned  for  me.  I  only 
set  fire  to  the  last  plank.  I'm  glad  of  it  now,  I 
believe  I  have  been  glad  of  it  every  moment  since 
I  saw  it  burn  up." 

Tom  shook  his  head  despondently.  "Too 
late,  Sam,  I  'm  rooted  here,"  he  said  as  they  came 
out  of  the  bridle  path  and  loped  briskly  for  the 
stables. 

That  night  they  dined  at  Tom's  club  and  after 
dinner  sat  in  the  smoking-room.  It  had  turned 
cold  and  wet,  and  a  good  many  members  came 
in.  Some  were  acquaintances  of  Sam's  and  many 
sought  an  introduction  to  him.  Bob  Tiverton 
came  in,  and  later  Delano,  a  lawyer,  head  of  a 
powerful  firm  of  corporation  lawyers,  and  Good- 
hue,  a  financier.  They  were  presented  to  Sam  by 
Tom,  who  ordered  cocktails. 

"By  the  way,  Mr.  Randolph,"  said  Delano,  "I 
understand  you  are  from  Rockaway  County, 
New  Hampshire.  How  far  from  your  town  is 
Salvage?" 

"About  twelve  miles,  I  should  say,"  replied 
Sam. 

"Then  you  will  have  a  chance  to  see  a  good 
many  of  your  New  York  friends  from  now  on.  I 
refer  to  the  incorporation  of  the  Connecticut 
River  Improvement  Company.  I  suppose  I 
might  get  you  a  bit  of  stock  at  par  if  you  wish," 
said  Delano. 


332  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Delano,  but  par  is  a  big 
figure  or  will  be  within  a  year,"  replied  Sam. 

"Big  figure!  I  should  say  not,"  said  Goodhue; 
"why,  it  will  be  selling  at  180  before  six  months." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  but  if  I  had  any,  I 
should  jump  at  any  such  figure." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  the  proposition,  any 
way?"  asked  Delano. 

'That  section  of  the  bill  exempting  book 
makers,  pool-sellers,  and  betters  from  any  but 
civil  liability,"  replied  Sam.  'That  is  as  uncon 
stitutional  as  anything  can  be,  and  the  people 
know  it." 

"Does  n't  the  act  of  incorporation  provide  spe 
cial  regulation  and  the  appointment  of  special 
officers  to  prevent  anything  of  the  kind?"  asked 
Delano,  with  a  confident  smile. 

"It  does,  without  any  question,  and  then  says 
that  if  they  do  gamble  on  the  races  and  win,  they 
can  be  compelled  to  restore  their  winnings,  that's 
all,"  replied  Sam,  with  a  smile. 

"Is  n't  that  fair  enough?  The  same  thing  was 
declared  constitutional  in  New  York,"  insisted 
Delano. 

"Not  as  the  people  in  New  Hampshire  will 
view  it.  I  don't  think  our  people  are  very  toler 
ant  of  discrimination,  and  they  are  mighty  liable 
to  kick  over  the  traces  when  they  have  been 
fooled,  as  they  were  in  this  case,"  said  Sam. 


COMPARISONS  333 

"Your  people!"  said  Bob  Tiverton,  with  a 
sneer.  "A  set  of  country  clodhoppers.  I  should 
be  mighty  proud  of  them  if  I  were  you.  I  could 
buy  the  whole  legislature." 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  would  if  you  could, 
Tiverton, "said  Sam, good-naturedly.  "But  that 
is  just  what  you  can't  do.  But  I'll  admit  you 
fooled  them.  As  for  being  proud  of  my  country 
clodhoppers,  as  you  call  them,  I  am,  and  I  hope 
some  day  they  will  think  well  of  me,"  answered 
Sam. 

"Hold  on  a  moment,  Bob,"  interposed  De 
lano,  as  Tiverton  started  to  reply  hotly.  "  What  I 
wish  to  know,  Mr.  Randolph,  is,  how  do  the 
people  feel  about  it  now?" 

'They  feel  as  if  they  had  been  fooled,  and  they 
don't  like  it.  Just  now  the  feeling  has  died  down 
a  bit,  but  as  soon  as  the  races  are  held,  the  feeling 
will  increase." 

"But  are  the  people  so  down  on  racing  as  this 
would  indicate?"  asked  Goodhue. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  replied  Sam.  "I  under 
stand  there  has  always  been  racing  and  pool- 
selling  at  county  fairs,  and  if  the  firm  who  drew 
the  bill  had  left  out  that  exemption  clause,  no 
thing  would  have  been  thought  of  it.  But  to 
pass  the  bill  under  suspension  of  the  rules  with 
that  clause  in  it,  raised  the  rumpus." 

"Oh,  well,  I  guess  they  will  get  over  it.    You 


334  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

see  the  honest  tiller  of  the  soil  is  not  going  to  pre 
vent  a  lot  of  money  coming  into  the  state,"  said 
Goodhue  confidently. 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  but  that  is  a  mighty 
dangerous  assumption,  and  an  unsafe  proposition 
to  risk  money  on,"  replied  Sam. 

"What  will  happen,  if  we  hold  races  and  sell 
pools?"  asked  Delano. 

"Prosecution,  if  the  County  Solicitor  is  up  to 
his  work,"  said  Sam  crisply. 

"And  what  if  he  is  not,  would  any  private 
parties  take  it  upon  themselves  to  commence 
prosecutions?"  asked  Goodhue. 

"Doubtful,  I  should  say.  But  I  think  the 
temper  of  the  people  would  be  such  that  the 
Solicitor  would  be  obliged  to  prosecute,"  said 
Sam. 

"Let's  see,  you  were  a  candidate  last  year,  and 
got  licked,  did  you  not?"  said  Tiverton. 

"I  was,  and  got  most  thoroughly  licked,"  said 
Sam,  laughing. 

"Are  you  to  be  a  candidate  again?"  asked 
Delano. 

"How  long  does  the  present  Solicitor  hold 
office?"  said  Goodhue. 

'There  is  an  election  every  two  years.  I  shall 
try  again,  of  course,"  said  Sam. 

"And  get  licked  again,"  said  Tiverton,  with  a 
sneer. 


COMPARISONS  335 

"I  think  very  likely,"  assented  Sam,  lighting 
a  fresh  cigar. 

"He  will,  if  there  is  money  enough  in  New 
York  to  make  him,"  growled  Tiverton,  in  an  aside 
to  Goodhue.  "Van  Cleves  will  see  to  that,"  and 
Goodhue  nodded  somewhat  doubtfully. 

At  12.30  the  next  morning  Sam  fell  asleep  in 
his  berth  in  the  Flying  Express,  and  at  9.30  piled 
his  grips  into  Alvy's  hack,  climbed  to  the  box  and 
nodded  to  his  acquaintances  as  he  bowled  away  to 
his  office. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

OUT    OF   THE    PAST 

WHILE  Sam  was  in  New  York,  the  Squire  was 
working  one  day  on  another  lease  for  old 
Caleb  Terrill,  who  did  much  real  estate  business 
in  addition  to  the  business  of  the  firm.  Miss  Ellis 
was  clicking  away  at  her  machine,  and  the  sounds 
of  the  streets  came  faintly  through  the  closed 
windows.  The  street  in  front  of  the  office  was  a 
mass  of  melting  snow  and  spring  mud.  A  few 
sleighs  and  sleds  were  still  in  use,  but  broad-tired 
wheels  and  mud  wagons  predominated. 

The  farmers  in  the  neighboring  towns  were  for 
the  most  part  at  work  at  their  woodpiles,  fencing, 
or  burning  refuse,  and  callers  were  few  in  the 
office. 

Entered  a  tall,  strongly  built  man  of  about  the 
Squire's  age.  His  hair  was  curly,  his  complexion 
tanned  to  a  dark  olive,  his  manner  was  insolent 
and  confident  even  to  aggressiveness.  But  it  was 
his  peculiar  eyes  that  bred  instinctive  dislike. 
They  were  small,  greenish  black,  and  piercing. 
One  had  a  small  cast  or  imperfection,  a  slight 
slant  that  made  his  glance  shifty  and  snake- 
like. 


OUT  OF  THE   PAST  337 

The  Squire  looked  up.  "  Can  I  do  anything  for 
you,  sir?"  he  inquired,  with  his  usual  courtesy. 

"You  can,  sir;  can  we  speak  without  the  young 
woman  there  hearing  us?"  indicating  with  an  inso 
lent  nod,  Miss  Ellis,  who  colored  with  indigna 
tion. 

"Go  into  my  private  office,  sir,  I  will  be  with 
you  in  a  moment,"  said  the  Squire  curtly. 

"But  my  business  is  important,  Squire 
Branch,"  said  the  stranger  sharply. 

"So  is  mine,  sir,"  replied  the  Squire,  "and  if 
you  cannot  wait,  go  to  some  other  office,"  and  he 
resumed  work  on  the  lease. 

In  the  private  office  the  stranger  paced  the 
floor  and  muttered,  "Damn  him!  he  won't  be  so 
cocky  when  he  finds  out  who  I  am  and  what  I 
know.  That  cheek  will  cost  him  about  a  dollar 
for  every  minute  he  keeps  me  waitin'." 

Finally,  the  Squire  finished  reading  the  lease, 
arose,  gave  it  to  Miss  Ellis  with  instructions  for 
immediate  delivery  and  comparison  with  old 
Caleb,  and  as  she  left,  he  entered  the  private 
office. 

"Well,  sir,  what  is  your  business?"  he  inquired 
curtly. 

"I'll  shut  the  door,  Squire  Branch,"  the  stran 
ger  said,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word.  "Now, 
sir,  my  business  is  this.  Your  real  name  is 
Stanley  Furber." 


338  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

The  Squire  started  violently  and  stared  at  the 
man. 

"You  killed  a  man  once  in  a  saloon  in  Timber- 
wolf." 

The  Squire  sat  down  heavily  and  the  color 
faded  from  his  face. 

"Huh!  that  fetched  yer.  P'r'aps  you're  not  so 
pizen  busy  now,"  snarled  the  stranger.  "You 
took  his  little  girl  with  you,  and  came  East,  and 
changed  your  name?" 

The  Squire  arose,  turned,  unlocked  a  closet 
door,  took  out  a  bottle,  poured  out  a  glass  of 
whiskey,  and  drank  it  at  a  gulp.  The  burning 
liquor  picked  him  up  a  bit,  and  a  faint  color 
returned  to  his  dead  gray  face. 

"Who  in  the  devil  are  you?"  he  asked. 

"I'm  Bill  Simpson.  I  was  cookee  in  the  Gulch 
Shack,  and  was  in  the  Timberwolf  saloon  when 
you  got  the  drop  on  the  'Tarantula.' ' 

"Well,  I  was  acquitted,  was  n't  I?" 

:'Yes,  you  were  acquitted  all  right.  If  you 
had  n't  killed  him,  he  would  have  killed  you," 
said  Simpson. 

"Well,  why  do  you  bring  that  up  after  so  many 
years,  man?  Don't  you  think  I  have  suffered 
enough?"  said  the  Squire  huskily.  "It  was  a 
justifiable  killing,  but  I  have  never  been  able  to 
get  that  man's  face  out  of  my  mind.  It  has  al 
ways  been  a  weight  on  me." 


OUT  OF  THE  PAST  339 

"Oh,  rats!  I  never  should  have  minded  it  a 
bit." 

"Well,  I  did  mind  it,  and  I  have  tried  to  for 
get  it,  but  could  n't,"  said  the  Squire  with  a 
groan. 

"Well,  nobody  knows  it  but  myself,  and  no 
body  will  from  me;  that  is  if  you  do  the  right 
thing,"  continued  Simpson  with  a  leer. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  the  right  thing?  "  asked 
the  Squire,  stiffening. 

"That's  easy  enough.  The  only  thing  I've  got 
that's  worth  a  cent  is  your  secret.  I've  got  that 
all  right.  You've  got  money.  Let's  trade,"  said 
Simpson. 

The  Squire  sprang  from  his  seat.  "Blackmail! 
you  mean,  you  thieving  cur!  Get  out  of  my 
office  before  I  throw  you  out,"  he  hissed  tensely. 

The  stranger  leaned  forward  and  shook  his 
finger  at  the  Squire.  "All  right,  Stanley  Furber, 
put  me  out  if  you  will,  and  if  you  don't  care  what 
people  think  of  you,  but  how  will  you  like  to  have 
that  niece  of  yours,  the  Tarantula's  granddaugh 
ter,  know  that  her  so-called  uncle,  Mr.  Ira 
Branch,  killed  her  own  grandfather?  How  will 
she  feel  about  it  when  she  finds  out  that  she  is  the 
granddaughter  of  a  murderer,  and  the  meanest 
cutthroat  in  the  West?  Go  ahead  now  and  throw 
me  out.  I  won't  resist." 

The  Squire  shrunk  back  as   if  he  had  been 


340  A   COUNTRY   LAWYER 

struck.  The  sweat  started  from  his  face.  "My 
God!"  he  said,  "I  did  n't  think  of  her,  I  did  n't 
think  of  her." 

Finally,  he  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  regain 
his  composure.  "Well,  how  much  do  you  want? " 
he  asked. 

"I  shall  have  to  think  it  over.  You  can  give 
me  a  couple  of  hundred  dollars  now,  I  shall  be 
here  a  few  days.  But  no  devil's  tricks,"  he  added, 
truculently.  "I  don't  intend  to  remain  in  this 
God-forsaken  country  any  longer  than  I  can 
help,  but  any  attempt  to  have  me  arrested  for 
blackmail  and  your  secret  is  known  to  the  papers, 
and  you  know  what  that  means,"  he  said  with  a 
grim  smile. 

The  Squire  unlocked  the  safe,  took  out  a  roll  of 
bills,  counted  out  two  hundred  dollars,  and  gave 
them  to  the  man,  who  counted  them  again  care 
fully,  rolled  them  into  a  wad,  stuffed  them  into 
his  trousers'  pocket,  nodded,  and  went  out. 

But  the  Squire  sat  there  a  long  time,  his  face 
hidden  in  his  hands,  his  mind  trying  vainly  to  see 
a  way  out  of  the  tangle.  He  did  not  mind  the  loss 
of  the  money.  But  the  knowledge  of  what  he  had 
feared  for  years,  that  Polly  would  find  out  the 
dreadful  truth,  made  his  courage  fail  and  his 
heart  as  weak  as  water.  Would  the  spectre  never 
down?  Was  there  to  be  no  end  of  the  trouble? 
God  knows  he  had  tried  to  do  his  best  to  every 


OUT  OF  THE  PAST  341 

one.  God  knows  he  had  repented  of  his  hasty  act 
by  a  lifetime  of  remorse,  but  —  he  had  killed  a 
man !  It  was  a  long  time  ago,  but  —  he  had 
killed  a  man! 


CHAPTER  XIX 

SAM    COMES    BACK 

LEAVING  the  driver  to  take  his  baggage  to  his 
rooms,  Sam  sprang  down  at  the  well-known 
building,  ran  up  the  stairs,  opened  the  door  of 
the  office  and  stood  amazed  at  what  he  saw;  the 
Squire,  white,  trembling,  his  eyes  terrified,  sat 
limp  in  his  chair,  while  over  him  with  clenched  fist 
stood  a  brawny  sunburned  man  with  grizzled  gray 
hair,  a  hawk  nose,  and  a  drooping  gray  mustache. 

As  Sam  entered  the  man  said,  "You'll  do  it, 
damn  you!  or  I'll  smash  you." 

In  a  moment  the  man  was  whirled  across  the 
room  and  thrown  headlong  into  a  corner,  while 
over  him  stood  Sam,  his  blood  boiling  and  his 
muscles  tingling. 

In  an  instant  the  Squire  sprang  between  them. 
"Sam!  Sam!  what  do  you  mean  by  interfering? 
Stand  back,  and  let  him  get  up.  You're  not  hurt, 
Simpson?  Sam  is  quick  and  strong,  but  he  did  n't 
understand,  he  thought  you  were  threatening 
me." 

Sam  stared  at  the  Squire  in  astonishment. 

Simpson  slowly  arose,  his  small  snaky  eyes 
gleaming  green,  his  mouth  drawn  in  a  snarl:  — 


SAM   COMES  BACK  343 

"Is  this  the  way,  Furber,  you  welcome  your 
friends?  You  won't  get  the  drop  on  me  again 
young  man,"  said  the  man,  clapping  his  hand 
with  a  significant  gesture  on  his  right  hip. 

"Simpson,  I  did  n't  expect  Sam  so  soon  and  I 
should  have  told  him  of  your  visit.  Sam,  this  is 
Mr.  Simpson,  an  old  friend  of  mine  when  I  was  a 
boy.  He  came  to  make  me  a  visit.  I  trust  you 
will  be  friends." 

Sam  stared  at  the  Squire  who  he  felt  was 
acting  a  part,  but  he  said  slowly,  "I  am  very  sorry 
I  was  violent  to  Mr.  Simpson,  and  I  beg  his  par 
don.  I  really  thought  he  was  threatening  you, 
and  of  course  I  could  n't  stand  that." 

Simpson  affected  a  smile  that  curiously  twisted 
his  mouth,  leaving  his  eyes  hard  and  cold  like  the 
eyes  of  a  reptile.  :'The  young  chap  can't  speak 

no  fairer  than  that,  so  we'll  say  no  more  about 

*i_  » 
it. 

But  he  did  not  offer  his  hand  to  Sam,  very 
much  to  his  relief. 

The  Squire  smiled.  "There,  that's  good.  Now 
everything  is  pleasant.  Now,  Sam,  I  am  glad  you 
are  back.  Pettengill  will  be  over  this  morning  at 
ten  with  his  plans  and  witnesses.  Will  you  take 
them  off  my  hands?  I  must  go  out  with  Simpson. 
Polly  will  be  delighted  to  see  you.  She  has 
missed  you,  I  know,  as  we  all  have.  I  sent  Miss 
Ellis  to  the  bank  and  to  Emery's  on  the  Plains. 


344  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

When  she  comes  back,  have  her  copy  the  Trust 
Company  deed  and  the  statement  of  the  New 
York  lawyers.  Shall  you  have  to  go  to  your  rooms 
first?" 

"No,  Mr.  Branch,  I  am  ready  now.  I  sent 
up  my  baggage  and  I  am  glad  to  get  at  work 
again." 

Then  the  Squire  and  Simpson  left  the  office. 

Sam  stared  at  their  departing  backs.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  Squire  had  aged  since  he  went  away. 
What  was  the  matter?  Something  was  wrong, 
and  that  something  had  to  do  with  Simpson. 
There  was  no  question  about  it.  Simpson  was 
threatening  the  Squire,  and  the  Squire  was 
shaken.  He  of  all  men !  Sam  paced  up  and  down 
the  office,  but  could  make  nothing  of  the  mys 
tery.  Just  then  Miss  Ellis  came  in  and  greeted 
Sam  warmly,  and  asked  about  his  trip  and  the 
articles  bought  for  Polly. 

As  soon  as  he  could  get  a  chance,  Sam  asked 
her  about  Simpson,  but  he  could  not  get  much 
information  from  her  beyond  the  fact  that  he  had 
come  in  one  day,  had  asked  for  the  Squire,  had 
been  admitted  to  his  private  office;  that  they  had 
talked  for  a  long  time  together,  and  the  Squire 
had  been  very  much  agitated.  Miss  Ellis  also  said 
that  she  was  afraid  of  Simpson ;  afraid  of  his  eyes 
and  his  villainous  mouth. 

As  Sam  could  make  no  headway,  and  as  Pet- 


SAM   COMES  BACK  345 

tengill  just  then  came  with  his  plans  and  wit 
nesses,  Sam  put  aside  his  perplexity  and  plunged 
into  the  case. 

He  took  supper  at  Billy  McDougalPs  with  Ben 
and  Williams,  and  that  night  he  called  at  the 
Squire's  to  see  Polly.  The  Squire  listened  and 
smoked  and  said  very  little,  and  Sam  noticed  that 
Polly  glanced  at  him  with  much  solicitude. 

As  ten  o'clock  struck  and  Sam  left,  she  followed 
him  to  the  door,  contrary  to  her  usual  custom  and 
said,  "Sam,  I  am  worried  about  Uncle  Ira.  He 
does  not  seem  well  at  all ;  he  seems  worried  about 
something.  Are  his  cases  troubling  him?" 

Sam  affected  to  laugh  at  her  fears.  "The 
Squire  has  a  number  of  very  important  cases,  and 
of  course  they  worry  him  more  or  less.  But  don't 
you  worry.  He  will  come  out  all  right.  I  can 
take  a  good  deal  of  the  work  off  his  shoulders 
nowr,  I  hope." 

"I'm  so  glad  you  are  back,  Sam.  I  know 
Uncle  Ira  has  missed  you." 

"I  hope  you  have  too,  Polly." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course,  we  all  have,"  she  replied; 
"but  Uncle  Ira  most  of  all,  I  guess;  and  I  can't 
say  how  much  I  thank  you  for  those  beautiful 
things,  Sam." 

As  Sam  went  to  his  rooms  he  felt  far  from  reas 
sured  in  his  mind.  But  he  was  tired  and  fell 
asleep  as  soon  as  he  got  in  bed,  and  did  not  wake 


346  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

until  the  sun  shone  in  his  window  and  burned 
open  his  eyes. 

A  few  days  after  that,  Simpson  left  town,  and 
Sam  noticed  at  once  that  the  Squire  was  in 
tensely  relieved,  and  he  and  Sam  got  to  work 
with  great  vigor  and  satisfaction.  But  still  he  was 
not  the  same  bluff  Squire.  There  was  a  change  in 
him  that  worried  Sam.  He  would  sit  for  long 
periods  thinking  deeply,  and  did  not  have  the 
same  ardor  for  work  as  before.  But  at  the  April 
Term  he  tried  his  cases  as  thoroughly  and  effec 
tively  as  ever. 

In  June  the  splendid  buildings  and  the  magni 
ficent  race-track  of  the  Improvement  Company 
were  finished,  and  a  ten  days'  series  of  races  was 
held.  This  caused  a  great  deal  of  criticism,  but 
no  prosecutions  were  instituted.  Later  in  the 
season,  in  September,  a  second  course  of  two 
weeks'  races  was  held  which  was  widely  at 
tended.  Book-making  and  pool-selling  were  open 
and  flagrant,  but  no  interference  was  made  by  the 
authorities. 

In  January  of  the  following  year,  the  Governor 
filed  with  the  Supreme  Court  a  petition  asking 
for  an  opinion  in  relation  to  the  legality  of  the 
maintenance  of  the  track  for  the  purposes  of 
pool-selling,  book-making,  and  betting,  and  in  a 
short  time  a  very  carefully  written  opinion  was 
handed  down  in  which  the  five  judges  unani- 


SAM   COMES  BACK  347 

mously  held  that  the  maintenance  of  the  track 
for  the  purposes  for  which  it  had  been  used  was  in 
plain  violation  of  law. 

In  June  of  that  year  the  races  were  held  as  be 
fore,  and  in  open  disregard  of  the  opinion  of  the 
Supreme  Court,  and  without  interference  of  the 
authorities.  A  few  days  after  the  meeting,  fiery 
and  scathing  editorials  appeared  in  the  Capital 
City  Advertiser,  the  two  leading  dailies  of  the 
Mill  City,  and  on  Friday  the  better  class  of  week 
lies  all  over  the  state  were  firing  broadsides  at  the 
Improvement  Company,  while  some  of  the 
political  sheets  defended  it  vigorously.  But  the 
Solicitor  made  no  move. 

During  the  summer  Simpson  again  appeared, 
and  the  effect  on  the  Squire  was  marked.  He 
was  absent-minded,  nervous,  irritable,  and  inter 
mittent  in  his  work.  Polly  knew  something  was 
wrong  and  in  some  way  connected  it  with  Simp 
son,  who  had  called  at  the  house  once  or  twice, 
and  had  once  accosted  her  on  the  street. 

When  Sam  found  this  out,  he  was  white  with 
wrath,  and  meeting  Simpson  one  day  alone,  he 
said,  "Mr.  Simpson,  just  one  word  with  you.  I 
don't  know  what  hold  you  have  on  Mr.  Branch, 
and  I  don't  wish  to  know.  But  if  you  ever  speak 
to  his  niece  Polly  again,  or  look  at  her  with  your 
snaky  eyes,  I'll  break  your  back  as  I  would  a 
snake's." 


348  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Simpson  grinned  his  evil  smile.  "You  are 
pretty  fresh,  young  man,  but  you  may  sing  a  dif 
ferent  tune  some  day." 

"That  may  be,  but  the  first  time  you  speak  or 
look  at  her,  you'll  stop  singing  forever,  and  let 
me  tell  you  one  thing  more,  if  you  plan  any  mis 
chief  against  Mr.  Branch,  you'll  have  this  town 
on  you  like  hounds  on  a  wolf." 

"Oh!  you  go  to  hell!"  snarled  Simpson,  as  he 
turned  and  slouched  off. 

Sam's  hands  tingled  to  get  a  grip  on  Simpson's 
throat  and  to  choke  the  life  out  of  him,  but  for  the 
Squire's  sake  he  restrained  himself. 

Later  on,  Sam  learned  that  Simpson  had  bought 
the  "Mayflower,"  a  notorious  roadhouse  a  few 
miles  out  on  the  Oceanbrook  Road,  and  was  oper 
ating  the  place  in  conjunction  with  the  Sefiorita, 
a  Spanish  woman  of  a  reputation  for  absolute 
lack  of  morals  and  a  most  unbridled  temper. 

In  September  the  race-track  was  again  open 
for  a  two  weeks'  meeting,  which  called  forth  a 
storm  of  protest  from  the  newspapers  and  the 
pulpits.  But  as  before,  although  the  violation  of 
laws  was  open  and  gross,  no  prosecutions  fol 
lowed.  While  the  feeling  was  at  its  height,  Sam 
again  publicly  announced  his  candidacy  and 
pledged  himself  to  enforce  the  laws  fairly,  and 
without  fear  or  favor. 

The  newspaper  response  was  so  clearly  in  his 


SAM   COMES  BACK  349 

favor  that  the  opposition  at  once  held  meetings 
to  devise  means  to  defeat  him.  Whatever  may 
have  been  said  at  the  meeting  or  at  any  of  the 
meetings  that  were  frequently  held  in  Elmtown, 
in  Brookmouth,  in  Lamprey  River,  or  in  other 
places  by  those  opposed  to  Sam's  election,  it  was 
evident  that  a  most  plausible  line  of  argument 
was  agreed  upon  by  the  newspapers.  Here  was  a 
corporation  composed  for  the  most  part  of 
wealthy  New  Yorkers  who  were  willing  to  put 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  into  our  state  in 
the  shape  of  taxable  property;  that  in  addition  to 
this  they  were  several  times  a  year  to  spend  im 
mense  sums  in  providing  the  people  of  New 
Hampshire  with  the  sport  of  kings,  a  thing  never 
before  within  their  grasp ;  that  the  property 
owners  of  the  Town  of  Salvage,  where  the  track 
was  located,  had  built  many  buildings  and  had 
gone  to  great  expense  in  anticipation  of  the  rise  in 
values,  and  increase  in  business;  that  a  splendid 
hotel  had  been  built,  an  electric  line  laid,  new 
stores  opened,  new  houses  built,  the  entire  town 
altered  and  enlarged ;  that  it  was  the  duty  of  every 
citizen  of  the  county,  who  had  the  welfare  of  its 
citizens  at  heart,  to  take  such  action  as  would 
secure  to  these  public-spirited  citizens  of  another 
state,  who  had  hazarded  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  dollars  on  our  good  faith,  our  good  sense,  our 
freedom  from  narrow-mindedness,  and  our  sense 


350  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

of  fairness,  to  secure  to  them  the  uninterrupted 
enjoyment  of  the  venture,  to  the  Town  of  Sal 
vage  the  prosperity  that  its  citizens  deserved,  and 
to  open  the  doors  of  the  state  to  improvement 
and  increase  in  all  good  ways;  that  the  result  of 
the  election  meant  much  to  the  county,  and  much 
to  the  state,  and  that  the  reelection  of  the  present 
county  officials,  in  whose  term  of  office  these  im 
provements  came,  was  the  surest,  safest,  and 
most  reasonable  method. 

The  opponents  of  the  track  replied  hotly.  Yes, 
it  was  true  that  a  set  of  New  York  race-track 
gamblers  and  promoters  had  put  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  dollars  into  taxable  property  in  the 
Town  of  Salvage.  But  how  had  they  done  it? 
First,  by  playing  an  unconscionable  trick  upon 
the  members  of  the  legislature.  Second,  by  so 
conducting  their  track  that  the  Supreme  Court 
had  declared  it  to  be  run  in  plain  violation  of  law. 
Third,  by  utterly  disregarding  the  opinion  of  the 
Supreme  Court.  That  when  it  came  to  the  point 
that  the  good  name  of  the  state  was  to  be  de 
bauched  and  prostituted  for  a  few  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars  or  a  few  hundred  million  dollars,  it 
was  about  time  to  call  a  halt,  and  show  the  world 
that  the  old  saying  that  "Every  man  has  his 
price"  could  not  apply  to  the  citizens  of  New 
Hampshire,  known  everywhere  for  sturdy  hon 
esty  and  independence. 


SAM   COMES  BACK  351 

Speaking  began  very  early  in  the  campaign. 
The  speakers  for  the  old  officers  took  the  plausi 
ble,  good-natured  view  of  the  matter,  following 
out  the  idea  of  their  newspapers.  They  affected 
to  laugh  at  the  old-fashioned,  timorous  ideas  of 
the  other  side ;  they  deprecated  the  desolation  that 
Salvage  would  experience  should  the  track  be 
forced  to  discontinue  its  meetings;  they  enlarged 
on  the  great  care  that  had  been  taken  to  prevent 
any  such  abuses  as  their  opponents  feared;  they 
reminded  the  younger  voters  that  they  must  keep 
up  with  the  advance  in  thought,  act,  and  achieve 
ment  if  they  expected  to  get  along  in  this  world ; 
that  Colonial  law  forbade  a  man  kissing  his  wife 
on  the  Sabbath,  but  that  the  world  had  advanced 
since  that  time;  that  there  was  on  the  statute 
book  a  law  forbidding  travel  over  the  highways  at 
a  rate  of  over  five  miles  an  hour,  but  that  no  man 
ever  drove  much  above  a  walk  but  he  exceeded 
that  rate;  that  to  enforce  that  law  absolutely 
would  prevent  the  use  of  horses,  but  that  the  law 
had  its  uses :  to  establish  a  rate  of  speed,  to  pre 
vent  racing  in  the  compact  part  of  towns,  or  reck 
less  or  dangerous  driving;  that  such  laws  were  in 
tended  to  place  a  limit  from  which  abuses  could  be 
reckoned,  but  not  for  actual  enforcement  except 
in  extreme  cases;  that  this  law  could  be  invoked 
to  prevent  abuses,  and  should  be;  and  so  it  would 
be  time  to  enjoin  the  race-track  when  it  abused 


352  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

the  privileges  that  its  charter  gave  it,  the  privi 
leges  that  every  generous,  thoughtful,  progres 
sive,  right-minded  citizen  of  Rockaway  County 
thought  it  ought  to  have;  that  its  charter  pre 
scribed  a  line  of  conduct  that  absolutely  pre 
vented  any  of  the  evils  that  its  opponents 
claimed. 

Sam's  party  struck  straight  from  the  shoulder, 
narrated  the  fraud  on  the  citizens  of  the  state, 
its  Senate,  its  House;  the  contemptuous  disre 
gard  of  the  Supreme  Court,  the  introduction  of  a 
purely  gambling  proposition  to  a  clean  state  under 
the  cloak  of  the  improvement  of  the  breed  of 
horses  and  other  domestic  animals.  In  what  way 
would  the  farm-horses  of  the  county  be  improved 
by  the  introduction  of  wasp-waisted,  spindle- 
legged  horses  that  could  run  like  greyhounds,  but 
could  n't  pull  a  baby-carriage  to  save  their  lives? 
In  what  way  were  the  citizens  of  our  state  to  be 
benefitted  by  the  introduction  of  high-pressure 
excitement  on  a  low  grade  of  amusement? 

Sam  took  the  stump  and  made  a  distinctly 
favorable  impression.  His  speeches  were  direct 
and  to  the  point.  Beyond  saying  that  as  County 
Solicitor  he  would  see  that  the  opinion  of  the 
Supreme  Court  should  be  heeded  by  the  race 
track  officials  and  that  his  first  act  would  be  to 
indict  those  officials  who  had  violated  the  law  in 
relation  to  the  maintenance  of  pool-selling  and 


SAM   COMES   BACK  353 

gambling,  he  proceeded  to  arraign  the  apathy  of 
the  county  authorities  in  relation  to  roadhouses, 
houses  of  ill-fame,  liquor  searches,  and  public 
nuisances. 

He  was  often  interrupted,  often  questioned, 
but  the  questions  he  always  answered  fairly  and 
frankly,  and  he  had  a  knack  of  turning  ridicule 
and  interruptions  to  the  undoing  of  those  who 
attempted  them.  In  some  respects  he  was  a  dif 
ferent  man  from  the  untried  lawyer  who  had 
faced  them  two  years  before.  He  had  tried  alone 
several  cases  of  considerable  importance,  and 
with  the  Squire  had  tried  a  large  number  of  cases 
involving  knotty  questions  of  law  and  a  tangle  of 
divergent  testimony  and  had  made  a  good  ac 
count  of  himself.  Stories  of  his  physical  prowess 
had  been  told,  and  he  could  well  claim  distinction 
as  a  partner  of  the  Squire,  conceded  to  be  the 
best  lawyer  and  advocate  in  the  state.  And  so  at 
the  start  of  the  campaign  Sam  unquestionably 
had  the  best  of  the  fight. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Colonel  Van  Cleves 
came  to  Boston,  held  a  meeting  in  his  luxurious 
suite  of  rooms  in  the  Parker  House,  to  which  meet 
ing  were  bidden  the  County  Solicitor,  the  editors 
of  several  of  the  papers  opposed  to  Sam  and  of 
several  others  whose  opinions  were  merchantable, 
and  many  of  the  old-line  Republicans.  The  prin 
cipal  owners  of  a  large  brewery  and  bottling  estab- 


354  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

lishment  and  other  men,  cunning  and  unscrupu 
lous  in  politics,  were  also  bidden.  These  men  had, 
nearly  all  of  them,  private  interviews  with  the 
genial,  good-natured,  bluff,  and  kindly  colonel. 
For  each  one  there  was  a  handful  of  cigars,  and 
refreshments  of  so  potent  a  nature  that  several  of 
these  flushed  and  merry  gentlemen  hic-ingly 
insisted  that  the  Colonel  was  a  "heeluva  goo' 
f'ler,"  and  later  fell  down  and  were  carried  away 
in  a  state  of  coma. 

While  this  was  going  on,  Bob  Tiverton  was  con 
ferring  weightily  with  Simpson,  the  Senorita,  and 
several  of  the  roadhouse  keepers  at  the  "May 
flower." 

"I  tell  you,  Mr.  Tiverton,  it's  a  dangerous 
game  you  are  playing.  He  can't  be  put  out  of  the 
way.  He  is  too  important  a  man  to  be  knocked 
on  the  head.  That  may  do  for  dime  novels  and 
stories  of  the  West,  but  it  don't  go  here,"  said 
Kimball,  a  red-faced,  bull-necked  man.  'Then 
again,  I  am  afraid  of  the  Squire.  He  is  an 
almighty  dangerous  man  to  deal  with." 

'To  hell  with  the  Squire,"  said  Simpson,  puf 
fing  on  one  of  Tiverton's  cigars,  "  I  can  handle  the 
Squire  so  he  won't  peep." 

"Oh,  close  that  trap  of  yours,  Simpson;  you 
can  handle  the  Squire  about  the  way  that  Bill 
Evans  thought  he  could  handle  this  Randolph." 

"I  can  handle  the  Squire,  just  as  I  said  I  could. 


SAM  COMES  BACK  355 

Some  of  you  fresh  guys  think  I  don't  know  what 
I  am  talking  about.  But  I  tell  you  I  can  handle 
the  Squire,"  said  Simpson,  pounding  the  table, 
with  an  oath. 

"But  there  ain't  goin'  to  be  no  kidnappin'  or 
no  murderin'  in  this  thing,"  said  the  bull-necked 
man  decidedly.  "It 's  bad  enough  to  lose  my  busi 
ness,  but  I  don't  intend  to  have  my  neck  stretched 
or  to  bottom  chairs  for  the  rest  of  my  life." 

"Damn  it  all,  if  you  are  afraid,  say  so,"  snarled 
Simpson. 

"I'm  not  a  fool,  and  I  don't  propose  to  allow 
any  slant-eyed  Digger  Indian  talk  to  me  like 
that,"  said  the  bull-necked  man,  rising. 

But  here  the  woman  interfered.  "  Keep  quiet, 
fools,"  she  hissed.  "Too  much  of  quarrel  here, 
pigs-head,"  she  flashed,  her  black  eyes  glittering. 

The  men  sat  down  again.  The  woman  turned 
and  whispered  her  plan.  It  was  cold-blooded, 
atrocious  villainy.  Tiverton  looked  a  bit  uneasy, 
but  the  others  applauded  profanely. 

The  Senorita  was  to  call  at  Sam's  office,  who 
had  never  seen  her,  on  business,  and  was  to 
arrange  with  him  to  call  some  evening  at  the 
house  of  one  of  the  gang,  who  had  a  secret  room 
with  heavy  oak  doors,  where  gambling  was  car 
ried  on,  to  make  her  father's  will,  who  was  old 
and  feeble  and  unable  to  go  to  the  office.  As  soon 
as  Sam  arrived,  he  was  to  be  ushered  into  the 


356  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

strong  room  where  the  gang  were  waiting,  and 
was  to  be  given  his  choice  of  writing  a  with 
drawal  of  his  candidacy  and  a  request  for  his  sup 
porters  to  vote  for  Langdon,  or  was  to  be  bound, 
gagged,  and  delivered  up  to  the  authorities  on  a 
charge  of  attempted  felonious  assault  upon  the 
Senorita. 

"But  who  will  believe  it,  Senorita?  Felonious 
assault  upon  a  woman  of  your  reputation!" 

"There  are  always  plenty  of  people  to  believe 
it,  and  whether  they  believe  it  or  not,  it  will  cook 
his  goose,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

Then  each  one  swore  by  all  the  saints  never  to 
betray  each  other  and  they  separated,  Tiverton 
being  driven  at  once  to  the  railroad  station,  after 
leaving  a  large  sum  of  money  with  the  Senorita 
for  distribution. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A    CHALLENGE 

SAM  had  two  very  important  interviews  in  the 
next  two  days.  The  first  was  a  visit  at  the 
office,  of  a  very  stylish,  beautifully  dressed  wo 
man,  of  evident  refinement,  and  a  somewhat  pro 
nounced  accent,  who  consulted  him  at  length 
about  the  purchase  of  a  valuable  piece  of  real 
estate  in  a  neighboring  town,  asked  him  to  look 
up  the  title  carefully,  inquired  particularly  about 
a  certain  right  of  way  that  had  been  represented 
as  the  sole  incumbrance  on  the  estate.  She  was 
very  anxious  to  know  about  the  neighbors,  as  she 
said  she  had  always  lived  in  a  good  neighborhood, 
and  wished  to  take  especial  care  to  have  neigh 
bors  with  whom  she  could  be  friendly  without 
injuring  her  self-respect  and  who  could  be  on  ex 
cellent  terms  with  her.  She  said  she  had  heard 
much  of  the  Squire  as  a  most  unusual  man,  a 
really  great  lawyer  and  a  fine  gentleman,  and  Mr. 
Randolph  would  pardon  her  if  she  suggested  that 
after  looking  up  the  title  he  would  be  so  good  as 
to  submit  it  to  the  Squire. 

Sam  did  pardon  her,  and  assured  her  that  he 
always  did  submit  all  business  of  the  kind  to  his 


358  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

senior  partner,  and  assured  her  that  he  would  use 
great  care  in  looking  out  for  her  interests. 

There  was  one  other  thing  she  wished  him  to  do 
sometime.  Her  father  was  an  extremely  old  and 
rather  feeble  man  of  some  property.  She  had  a 
sister  who  was  not  as  well  off  as  she  wished  she 
was,  poor  thing,  and  that  she  had  tried  to  get  her 
father  for  some  time  to  leave  his  property  to  this 
sister,  and  he  had  partly  consented.  She  wished 
to  know  if  Mr.  Randolph  would  mind  riding  over 
to  Kenton  some  evening.  Her  father,  who  had 
for  many  years  been  a  night  editor  of  a  large 
city  daily  had  contracted  the  habit  of  sleeping 
days  and  reading  nights,  and  was  very  much 
brighter  after  nine  o'clock  than  before. 

Sam,  who  was  very  much  impressed  by  the  dis 
interested  motives  of  his  client,  said  that  she 
could  command  his  services  in  the  making  of  the 
will  at  any  time,  but  that  he  might  be  delayed  a 
bit  in  the  looking  up  the  title  because  in  addi 
tion  to  his  office  work  he  was  in  local  politics. 
She  replied  with  a  charming  smile  that  she  had 
heard  of  that,  too,  and  she  hoped  she  would  be 
able  to  congratulate  him  on  his  ultimate  success. 
She  had  heard  of  the  unfortunate  condition  of 
affairs  in  the  county,  and  she  felt  sure  that  the 
good  sense  of  the  better  class  of  people  would  elect 
those  officers  only  who  would  do  their  duty. 

She  then  paid  Sam  a  retainer,  expressing  sur- 


A   CHALLENGE  359 

prise  at  the  modesty  of  his  charges,  and  bade  him 
good-morning  with  the  most  charming  grace 
imaginable,  leaving  Sam  with  a  pleased  recogni 
tion  of  her  kindness,  her  courtesy,  her  tact,  and 
her  good  breeding. 

As  he  opened  his  letters  he  found  one  from 
Colonel  Van  Cleves's  lawyer,  asking  him  to  meet 
him  in  Boston  at  Parker's  the  next  day  at  ten 
o'clock  in  the  forenoon  to  confer  about  matters 
of  mutual  interest. 

Sam  frowned  at  this,  and  his  brows  were 
drawn  and  knotted  when  the  Squire  came  in. 

"Well,  Sam,"  said  the  Squire,  rather  more 
heartily  than  usual,  for  since  the  reappearance  of 
Simpson  he  had  been  very  quiet  and  thought 
ful,  "what  is  there  in  your  mail  that  makes  you 
look  so  doubtful?  Have  you  found  out  that 

'  Uneasy  lies  the  head  that  (would  like  to)  wear 

>  «2 » 
a  crown  t 

"I  found  that  out  long  ago,  Mr.  Branch,  but 
I  don't  quite  know  what  to  do  about  this.  I  guess 
I  need  advice  from  you,"  and  he  handed  the 
Squire  the  letter. 

The  Squire  read  it  carefully  and  frowned 
hideously. 

Sam  laughed.  "It  appears  to  have  the  same 
effect  on  you,  Mr.  Branch;  you  look  quite  a  bit 
doubtful,  as  well  as  I." 

"I  was  trying  to  think  what  game  they  are  up 


360  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

to.  For  if  Van  Cleves  is  in  it,  it  is  a  game,  or, 
what  is  worse,  an  offer  to  get  you  to  drop  out  of 
the  race." 

Sam's  head  went  into  the  air  with  a  start. 
"Old  Van  Cleves  will  hear  something  drop  if  he 
makes  any  offer  to  me,"  he  said  truculently.  "By 
the  gods !  I  would  like  to  get  a  chance  to  speak  my 
mind  to  him." 

"  It  is  always  better  to  let  the  other  man  do  the 
talking,  Sam,  remember  that,"  said  the  Squire 
dryly,  and  adding,  "I  have  a  good  mind  to  go 
with  you,  if  I  did  n't  have  an  appointment  that  I 
must  keep." 

"Oh,  I  would  n't  ask  you  to  do  that,  Mr. 
Branch.  I  don't  see  what  they  can  do  except 
misquote  me,  and  they  could  n't  do  that  any 
worse  than  the  papers  have.  Of  course,  if  it  comes 
to  any  question  about  the  maintenance  of  the 
race  meetings,  I  shall  stick  to  my  point,  and  tell 
them  what  to  expect.  They  might  as  well  know 
that  there  will  be  no  compromise,"  said  Sam 
decidedly. 

''Yes,  Sam,  that  is  always  the  best  way.  I  wish 
I  had  always  thought  so,"  he  added  in  a  low  tone, 
that  nevertheless  reached  Sam's  ear. 

Sam  glanced  at  him  and  his  heart  was  torn  as 
he  noted  how  thin  and  worn  and  old  the  Squire 
had  grown  during  the  last  few  months.  His 
cheeks  were  gray  and  sunken,  his  eyes  dull,  his 


A   CHALLENGE  361 

cheek-bones  unduly  prominent,  and  his  clothes 
seemed  loose  and  ill-fitting. 

A  spasm  of  sudden  anger  came  over  Sam  as  he 
thought  of  Simpson,  to  whose  presence  he  at 
tributed  the  Squire's  trouble,  and  for  the  hun 
dredth  time  he  wondered  what  influence  that 
snaky  individual  had  over  a  man  like  the  Squire, 
and  his  fingers  clinched  as  if  they  were  at  Simp 
son's  scrawny,  muscular  throat. 

"Damn  him!"  he  muttered,  "some  day  I'll 
know  and  then  - 

The  opposition  papers  that  morning  rung  the 
changes  on  Sam's  being  a  new  man  in  the  com 
munity.  They  were  willing  to  concede  that  Sam 
might  have  latent  talent,  but  what  was  the  use  of 
rushing  into  unknown  waters,  what  was  the  sense 
of  intrusting  our  good  county  ship  to  an  unknown 
pilot,  a  man  who  had  not  lived  in  the  community 
long  enough  to  know  the  needs  of  the  county,  the 
disposition  of  its  citizens,  or  the  real  condition  of 
its  institutions.  Ability  to  prosecute,  to  obtain 
convictions,  when  rightly  directed  by  good  judg 
ment,  tact,  and  a  forgiving  disposition,  was  a 
valuable  possession,  but  the  ability  to  convict  and 
a  determination  to  punish,  without  reckoning  on 
whose  shoulders  the  punishment  might  fall,  was 
but  small  recommendation  and  a  very  doubtful 
qualification  for  an  officer  whose  main  qualifica 
tion  should  be  good  judgment.  In  nine  cases  out 


362  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

of  ten  the  old  resident,  the  native-born  citizen, 
was  far  better  qualified  to  dispense  justice  than 
the  outsider  or  the  newcomer,  whose  mind  was 
trained  by  influences  alien  to  and  ofttimes  irre 
concilable  with  the  characteristics  of  our  own 
people. 

Sam  and  the  Squire  both  realized  that  this  was 
an  argument  calculated  to  appeal  to  the  preju 
dices  of  those  who  were  honestly  anxious  to  put 
an  end  to  the  existence  of  questionable  houses, 
dives,  gambling  places,  but  who  were  narrow, 
local,  and  intensely  jealous  of  any  success,  how 
ever  deserved,  in  an  outsider  or  newcomer.  In 
deed,  it  was  only  the  widespread  dissatisfaction 
with  the  state  of  affairs,  and  the  indignation  over 
the  incorporation  of  the  Improvement  Company 
that  gave  Sam,  a  newcomer,  a  fighting  chance. 

Early  that  afternoon  Sam  left  the  office  and 
took  a  long  horseback  ride  with  Polly,  whom  he 
had  somewhat  neglected  of  late,  owing  to  his 
political  activity.  He  found  that  young  lady 
somewhat  inclined  to  be  rather  distant,  but  the 
swing  of  the  horses,  the  delight  of  riding  again, 
put  the  roses  in  her  cheeks  and  the  light  in  her 
eyes. 

"Oh,  Sam,"  she  said,  "would  n't  it  be  delight 
ful  if  we  had  nothing  to  do  but  ride?  There  would 
be  no  horrid  clients  and  bothersome  wretched 
cases,  and  no  dreadful  politics  and  maddening 


A  CHALLENGE  363 

newspaper  reports  saying  perfectly  horrid  things 
about  one,  but  one  could  just  ride  and  ride  and 
ride.  Oh,  I  just  love  the  creak  of  the  leather  and 
jingle  of  the  bridle,  and  I  can  make  up  the  most 
beautiful  music  to  the  time  of  the  horses'  feet, 
caprices  to  the  singlef  oot  and  polka  redowas  to  the 
trot  and  czardas  to  the  gallop.  Some  day  I  hope 
I  can  take  a  long,  long  ride  through  the  country. 
Day  after  day,  stopping  at  funny  country  hotels 
and  farmhouses,  and  cooking  some  of  our  meals 
by  the  side  of  little  brooks.  And  oh!  Sam,  did 
you  ever  eat  trout  cooked  on  a  stick  with  salt  on 
it,  —  I  mean  on  the  trout,  not  the  stick?  I  am 
going  to  do  it  sometime  with  Uncle  Ira.  We  have 
talked  it  over  many  times.  We  will  have  two 
saddle-horses  and  a  third,  which  is  to  be  a  saddle 
horse,  too,  and  wear  a  pack-saddle  and  carry 
our  outfit,  that  is,  what  we  don't  have  in  our 
saddle-bags.  And  dear  Uncle  Ira  is  not  to  think 
of  business  for  the  entire  trip,  and  not  to  write 
or  receive  any  letters,  and  you,  Mr.  Sam,  will 
stay  at  home  in  a  dry,  hot,  dusty,  old  office  and 
work  at  an  old  desk  and  mark  cases  '  Continued 
for  notice,'  and  'Nonsuit,'  and  'Nisi  prius,'  and 
lots  of  other  Latin  things  that  none  but  lawyers 
know  about,  and  - 

"And  'In  hoc  signo  vinces*  and  'In  vino  veri- 
tas,'  and  'Hit  'im  agin,  McCarty,'"  said  Sam, 
laughing.  "And  perhaps  'Mr.  Sam'  will  follow 


364  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

right  along  on  that  pack-horse  and  cut  the  office, 
and  will  do  the  cooking,  and  run  the  errands,  and 
rub  down  the  horses,  and  pry  the  stones  out  of 
their  feet,  and  cinch  up  the  side-saddle  so  that  a 
certain  young  lady,  whose  name  I  need  not  men 
tion,  will  stay  on  her  horse  where  she  belongs, 
instead  of  swinging  down  under  the  horse,  as  she 
did  on  one  occasion  when  she  trusted  a  stableman 
to  put  on  her  saddle." 

In  this  way  they  rode  and  laughed  and  talked 
until  long  after  teatime,  and  when  they  returned 
found  the  Squire  waiting  tea  for  them.  Their 
happy  faces  so  cheered  him  up  that  he  almost 
forgot  his  anxiety. 

The  next  morning  Sam  started  for  Boston  to 
keep  his  appointment.  As  he  stepped  into  the 
Parker  House,  he  felt  a  slight  nervous  exhilara 
tion,  similar  to  that  he  always  felt  before  going 
into  a  contest  of  any  kind.  This  always  merged 
into  a  cool  determination  as  the  contest  began. 
As  he  passed  into  the  office,  he  was  met  by  Dona 
hue,  with  whom  he  shook  hands. 

"Now,  where  can  we  talk?"  asked  Sam. 

In  answer  to  this  question,  Donahue  said, 
'This  way,  Mr.  Randolph,"  and  led  the  way  to 
the  elevator,  which  took  them  to  a  room  in  the 
third  story. 

Donahue  knocked,  a  voice  cried,  "All  right, 
come  in,"  and  Sam  entered  a  large,  well-fur- 


A  CHALLENGE  365 

nished  room,  with  a  large  mahogany  table  and  a 
half -dozen  office  chairs.  Sitting  at  ease  in  the 
chairs  were  Colonel  Van  Cleves,  Bob  Tiverton, 
Annersly,  and  Pool,  four  of  the  incorporators  of 
the  Improvement  Company.  Sam's  color  height 
ened  as  he  saw  that  he  had  been  tricked  into  a 
meeting  which  he  had  supposed  would  be  a  pro 
fessional  conference  between  him  and  Donahue  or 
one  of  his  partners,  and  he  turned  a  sharp  glance 
of  inquiry  on  the  latter,  who  colored  in  his  turn, 
and  affected  to  be  busy  adjusting  the  curtains  at 
a  window.  However,  it  was  not  Sam's  nature  to 
shirk  a  fight,  and  he  faced  what  he  felt  would  be 
a  very  unpleasant  meeting,  with  coolness. 

The  four  gentlemen  rose  and  bo\ved,  Van 
Cleves  half-started  forward,  as  if  to  offer  his 
hand,  but  thought  better  of  it  and  bowed  pleas 
antly.  Tiverton  nodded  familiarly  and  some 
what  insolently. 

Sam  bowed,  said,  "Good-morning,  gentle 
men,"  and  took  a  seat  facing  them  and  waited 
for  them  to  speak. 

There  was  a  somewhat  constrained  silence  for 
a  moment,  and  then  Donahue,  in  response  to  a 
nod  from  the  Colonel,  began,  - 

'The  gentlemen  interested  in  the  Improve 
ment  Company,  and  whom  I  represent,  are  anx 
ious  for  a  conference  in  regard  to  the  matter,  Mr. 
Randolph,"  said  Donahue. 


366  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"So  it  appears,"  said  Sam  dryly. 

"And  we  thought,  that  is,  I  thought,  the  best 
way  was  to  hold  a  meeting  here  where  we  could 
be  comfortable  and  talk  the  matter  over  in  a 
friendly  way." 

"When  you  have  a  consultation  with  another 
lawyer,  is  it  your  practice  to  have  your  own 
clients  present  without  notifying  him  to  bring 
his?  If  so,  the  practice  is  different  where  I  live," 
said  Sam  quietly  but  meaningly. 

Donahue  looked  a  bit  uncomfortable,  but  con 
tinued,  "In  your  case,  Mr.  Randolph,  knowing 
you  to  be  an  old  friend  of  two  of  them  if  not  of 
all,  I  could  see  no  objection." 

"If  that  were  the  case,  there  might  have  been 
none,  but  it  strikes  me  as  scarcely  professional. 
But  if  there  is  anything  to  be  said  I  am  ready  to 
listen,"  said  Sam,  turning  his  gaze  on  the  Colonel. 

"All  right,  sir,  I  will  proceed,"  replied  Dona 
hue.  "The  gentlemen  here  have  a  very  large  pe 
cuniary  interest  in  the  track.  From  past  experi 
ence  they  have  had  reason  to  believe  that  you, 
brought  up  under  New  York  influences,  and 
knowing  many  phases  of  New  York  life,  have  no 
prejudices  against  racing  horses  or  betting  oh 
them.  They  have  reason  to  believe  that  you 
have,  in  the  past,  placed  a  bet  or  two  on  the  pon 
ies,  as  the  saying  is.  Am  I  correct?" 

"Possibly,"  said  Sam,  bowing  slightly. 


A  CHALLENGE  367 

"Now  they  feel,"  continued  Donahue,  "that 
if  the  people  of  your  state,  and  especially  the 
officers  of  your  county,  will  only  allow  them  to 
run  the  track  as  they  have  been  running  it  for  the 
past  two  seasons,  that  your  people  will  be  con 
vinced  that  their  methods  are  aboveboard,  and 
really  that  the  Improvement  Company  will 
prove  its  name,  a  great  factor  in  the  pecuniary 
improvement  to  the  citizens  of  your  state  and 
county.  They  wish  to  know  your  opinion  of  the 
best  way  to  convince  your  county  officers  of  these 
facts." 

"So  far  as  I  know,  the  officers  seem  to  be  very 
well  convinced  of  your  position,  if  their  action  in 
the  matter,  or  want  of  action,  is  any  evidence  of 
their  opinion,"  said  Sam.  "Would  it  not  be 
better  to  consult  them  rather  than  one  who  is  not 
an  officer?" 

"But  we  have  reason  to  think  that  you  may  be 
the  very  officer  that  we  wish  to  consult,"  said 
Donahue,  with  a  smile. 

"Well,  I  confess  I  don't  feel  as  sanguine  as 
that,  but  I  shall  do  all  I  can  to  land  the  office  of 
Solicitor,"  said  Sam,  with  a  flash  in  his  eye. 

"Well,  granted  that,  we  wish  to  know  flatly 
what  your  attitude  will  be  towards  the  track  and 
its  promoters,  provided  you  are  elected?"  de 
manded  Donahue. 

"That  is  a  fair  question  at  least,  and  deserves 


368  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

a  fair  answer,"  said  Sam,  looking  the  Colonel 
squarely  in  the  eye.  "My  first  act  will  be  to  se 
cure  the  indictment  of  the  incorporators  of  the 
company  for  keeping  and  maintaining  a  gam 
bling-place.  My  next  will  be  to  convict  them  if  I 
can  get  them  into  New  Hampshire.  Is  that  plain 
enough?" 

The  Colonel  reddened  and  started  as  if  to 
speak,  when  Donahue  cut  in. 

"If  that  is  the  case,  what  retainer  would  you 
charge  to  withdraw  from  the  contest  and  become 
the  New  Hampshire  attorney  for  the  company?" 

Sam  sprang  to  his  feet  so  quickly,  that  Dona 
hue  started  back  as  if  he  expected  a  blow. 

"Donahue,"  he  said,  "what  sort  of  a  damned 
shyster  are  you  anyway?  In  the  first  place,  you 
tricked  me  into  coming  here,  and  now  you  delib 
erately  offer  to  buy  me  out  for  a  lot  of  time-serv 
ing,  cut-throat  sharks  like  this  gang.  In  New 
Hampshire  they  disbar  lawyers  of  your  stripe." 

"Gang  of  sharks,  by  the  Eternal!"  roared  the 
Colonel,  shaking  his  fist.  "I  don't  propose  to 
stand  any  more  insolence  from  you";  and  he  ad 
vanced  threateningly,  but  stopped  abruptly  as 
Sam  started  forward  and  wagged  his  finger  under 
the  old  gentleman's  nose. 

"Colonel  Van  Cleves,  I  have  wanted  to  get  a 
chance  to  tell  you  what  I  think  of  you,  and  I  've 
got  the  chance  now.  You  are  the  most  cold- 


A  CHALLENGE  369 

blooded  old  vampire  in  New  York  to-day.  Tiver- 
ton  is  only  a  poor  fool,  but  you  are  a  rascal,  a 
heartless,  bloodsucking,  hoary-headed  old  whelp. 
You  never  had  a  decent  thought,  or  an  honest 
idea  in  your  life.  You  never  could  do  a  thing 
straight,  you  had  rather  lie  than  tell  the  truth. 
You  never  had  an  idea  that  there  was  an  honest 
man  in  the  world.  Now,  I  may  get  licked,  but 
some  day  I  am  going  to  be  County  Solicitor.  It 
may  be  this  fall,  or  it  may  be  in  two  years  from 
now,  but  when  I  do,  I  '11  land  you  in  jail  as  sure  as 
there's  a  God  in  Israel,  —  you  and  any  other  of 
your  gang  that  have  buncoed  and  defrauded  the 
people  of  New  Hampshire,  and  have  sneaked 
through  a  hypocritical  bill,  and  have  defied  the 
Supreme  Court.  As  for  you,  Donahue,  I  am 
surprised  at  you.  I  thought  you  were  a  man  of  a 
decent  reputation,  and  I  '11  swear  I  did  n't  expect 
this  from  a  member  of  your  firm." 

Donahue  turned  and  looked  out  of  the  window, 
his  hand  nervously  twisting  the  tassel  of  the 
shade,  and  made  no  reply,  nor  did  any  one  else. 

Then  Sam  took  his  hat,  stared  at  them  a  mo 
ment,  and  left  the  room. 

That  night  Sam  spoke  in  Rumley,  and  with 
the  memory  of  the  afternoon  upon  him  he  made 
a  most  aggressive  speech,  and  defined  his  posi 
tion  with  such  distinctness  as  to  leave  no  doubt 
in  the  minds  of  any  man  that  he  would,  if  elected, 


370  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

put  down  abuses,  abate  nuisances,  and  punish 
criminals. 

One  of  the  last  things  he  spoke  of  was  the  pur 
chase  of  votes,  and  in  stating  his  position  here  he 
was  no  less  decided :  - 

"One  thing  in  particular  I  wish  to  speak  of, 
and  that  is  the  purchase  of  votes.  It  has  been 
represented  to  me  that  the  purchase  of  votes  has 
been  looked  upon  with  toleration  in  some  parts 
of  this  county  as  a  necessary  evil  connected  with 
politics.  It  has  been  justified  by  some  as  the  ne 
cessity  of  fighting  the  Devil  with  the  Devil's  own 
weapon.  Now,  I  do  not  desire  this  election  by 
any  such  means.  I  would  rather  be  defeated 
overwhelmingly  than  owe  my  election  to  dis 
honest  practices  by  any  one  in  my  behalf.  But 
some  of  my  friends  say,  'You  will  be  beaten  if 
something  of  the  kind  is  not  done.'  Gentlemen, 
if  I  owe  my  election  to  the  purchase  of  one  soli 
tary  vote,  and  know  it,  then  I  am  more  of  a  crim 
inal  than  the  worst  criminal  I  may  convict,  and 
I  wish  to  say  here,  in  order  that  I  may  make  my 
position  clear,  that  if  I  find  any  instance  of  a  vote 
being  bought  in  my  interest,  or  money  used  cor 
ruptly  in  my  behalf,  I  will  do  my  utmost  to  bring 
the  guilty  man  to  punishment,  to  send  him  to 
state  prison  if  I  can,  and  I  mean  just  that,  so  help 
me  God." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

HIS    BACK    TO    THE   WALL 

THE  October  Term  with  its  grand  jury  came  on. 
The  report  of  the  jury  showed  no  indictments 
found  against  the  track  officials,  and  none  but 
beer  indictments  against  roadhouses,  dives,  or 
houses  of  ill-fame.  Langdon  had  missed  a  chance 
of  gaining  votes  from  Sam's  supporters,  for, 
owing  to  the  prejudice  against  a  newcomer,  as 
Sam  was  termed,  it  only  needed  a  show  of  official 
activity  on  Langdon's  part  to  seriously  weaken 
Sam's  support. 

Sam  had  more  cases  to  try  than  ever  before,  as 
the  Squire  put  more  and  more  work  on  his  shoul 
ders,  and  particularly  in  the  trial  of  jury  cases. 
The  Squire  had  two  motives  in  this.  One  was  to 
bring  Sam  out  as  a  jury  lawyer  as  a  preparation 
for  the  criminal  practice  he  would  have  in  the 
event  of  his  election,  and  the  other,  to  tide  him 
through  his  work,  for  which,  in  his  condition  of 
worry  and  trouble,  he  felt  himself  incapable.  And 
Sam,  thrown  in  a  measure  on  his  own  resources, 
entered  into  his  work  with  a  vigor  and  thorough 
ness  that  won  the  strong  commendation  of  the 
presiding  judge,  and  the  admiration  of  the  older 
members  of  the  bar. 


372  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

He  had  received  several  visits  from  the  pre 
possessing  young  woman  who  had  shown  so 
much  keenness  of  perception  in  legal  affairs,  so 
much  tact  and  good  sense,  that  Sam  was  very 
much  pleased,  and  took  exceptional  pains  in  the 
drafting  of  such  papers  as  she  desired,  and  in  the 
advice  he  gave  her.  And  it  was  noticeable,  when 
ever  she  came  to '  see  him,  that  Simpson  stood 
opposite  the  office  and  watched,  but  always  left 
before  she  came  out,  but  before  he  left,  took  occa 
sion  to  accost  some  store-keeper  or  well-known 
citizen  to  ask  the  time,  or  a  match,  or  to  chat  a 
moment. 

As  the  election  approached,  Langdon's  fol 
lowers  became  more  and  more  determined  to  re- 
elect  him,  and  the  papers  pressed  every  argument 
they  could  invent  to  defeat  Sam.  Indeed,  from 
some  reason  several  newspapers,  which  had  in 
the  beginning  of  the  campaign  taken  high  moral 
grounds  in  opposing  the  reelection  of  Langdon, 
now  admitted  that  the  selection  of  a  man  of 
Sam's  inexperience  was  a  very  dangerous  experi 
ment;  that  a  young  man,  pledged  to  convict, 
might  be  a  disturbing  element  in  county  affairs. 

Sam's  papers  promptly  sailed  into  these  "turn 
coats,"  as  they  called  them,  and  much  hard  feel 
ing  was  caused,  but  on  the  whole  the  support  of 
the  old  officers  appeared  to  be  strengthening. 
The  purchasable  voters  were  controlled  by  the 


HIS  BACK  TO  THE  WALL  373 

old  officers,  backed  by  their  own  money  and  by 
that  of  Van  Cleves,  Tiverton,  and  the  New  York 
stockholders.  And  there  could  be  no  doubt  that 
there  were  many  hundred  of  such  voters.  Then 
there  were  a  good  many  people  in  the  town  ad 
joining  Salvage  who  sympathized  very  strongly 
with  the  citizens  and  property  owners  of  that 
town  in  their  natural  desire  to  prevent  the  serious 
depreciation  of  their  property  that  the  closing  of 
the  track  would  produce,  and  of  course  every 
voter  of  Salvage  was  heart  and  soul  for  the  track. 

It  was  a  surprising  thing  to  find  out  how  many 
voters  were  influenced  by  the  cry  "Outsider," 
"Newcomer,"  "City  Man."  Even  the  ranks  of 
those  opposed  strongly  to  the  track  and  to  the 
apathetic  attitude  of  the  county  officers  had  been 
decimated  by  this  cry. 

"Why  in  Tunket  don't  this  'ere  New  Yorker 
stay  ter  hum?  Ain't  we  got  no  lawyers  fit  to  dew 
this  'ere  bizness?"  said  old  Cephas  Farnum,  in 
voice  of  raucous  protest. 

''That's  all  right,  Ceph,  but  this  'ere  young 
feller  will  dew  it,  an'  t'other  feller  has  hed  his 
chance,  *n*  hain't  done  nothin'  but  draw  his  sel- 
ery.  Neow,  I  say  less  gin  the  young  chap  a 
chance  ter  see  what  he  kin  dew.  Ez  fer  his  bein* 
a  New  Yorker,  what  of  it,  say  I,  what  of  it?  Dod 
rat  it,  that  argimint  is  reediculous.  Yeou  live  in 
Lamper  River,  don't  ye,  wuz  yeou  born  there? 


374  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

No,  ye  wuz  n't,  yeou  wuz  born  'n'  raised  in  West 
Barvel,  twel'  mile  away.  Spuzzen  when  yeou'd 
been  a-runnin'  fer  seelickman  the  fust  time,  some 
feller  hed  said,  'This  'ere  Cephas  Farnum  is  a 
outsider,  a  dummed  newcomer.'  Where  would 
yeou  ha*  been?  I  say,  dummit,  Ceph,  where 
would  yeou  ha'  been?" 

Such  argument  as  this  was  heard  on  the  streets 
every  day  and  probably  in  every  town  in  the 
county,  and  with  varied  result.  Sometimes  the 
doubter  was  won  over,  but  in  a  far  greater  num 
ber  of  cases  this  unreasonable  prejudice  turned 
the  doubter  away  from  Sam  and  made  him  an 
active  partisan  of  Langdon. 

It  was  about  ten  days  before  the  election,  and 
the  court  took  a  recess,  as  it  was  practically  im 
possible  to  try  cases  satisfactorily  until  the  result 
of  the  election  was  known.  Sam  was  billed  to 
appear  in  different  towns  nearly  every  evening. 
Some  of  his  friends  had  tried  to  induce  the  Squire 
to  take  the  stump  for  him,  knowing  the  immense 
influence  the  Squire  had,  and  the  enthusiastic 
following  he  would  command,  but  the  Squire  re 
fused  on  the  plea  of  ill-health,  and  indeed  he 
looked  ill  and  worn. 

One  Friday  evening,  Sam  had  dined  with  the 
Squire  and  Polly,  had  gone  to  the  office  for  some 
work,  then  to  his  rooms,  intending  to  go  early  to 
bed  better  to  prepare  for  a  hard  day's  work 


HIS  BACK  TO  THE   WALL  375 

Saturday  and  a  speech  in  the  evening  in  West 
Kendrick,  one  of  the  strongholds  of  his  oppo 
nents.  \Yhile  he  was  removing  his  coat,  a  boy 
appeared  with  a  note  from  his  attractive  client, 
asking  him  to  come  to  her  house  at  once,  that  her 
father  had  been  suddenly  taken  ill,  and  wanted 
him  to  make  his  will  before  it  was  too  late;  that 
she  would  have  the  witnesses  there,  and  "Please, 
please  hurry." 

Sam  groaned  in  spirit  for  a  moment  and  then 
reproached  himself  with  his  unkindness.  Of 
course,  he  would  go  at  once,  and  he  quickly 
changed  his  business  suit  for  his  riding-clothes, 
put  some  blank  legal  cap  in  his  pocket,  refilled 
his  stylograph,  ordered  his  horse,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  was  loping  rapidly  through  the  darkness 
and  out  of  the  town.  Although  he  had  never  been 
to  her  house,  he  followed  her  direction  carefully, 
and  soon  arrived  at  a  large,  solid-looking  house 
about  a  hundred  yards  from  the  road,  and  walled 
in  by  trees,  bushes,  and  high  thick  hedges.  As  he 
drew  up  by  the  house,  a  man  came  forward  with 
a  lantern,  took  his  horse,  glanced  sharply  at  Sam, 
and  motioned  to  the  door. 

Sam  ran  up  the  steps,  and  the  door  was  opened 
by  the  young  woman  with  her  handkerchief  at 
her  eyes. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Randolph,  I  have  so  much  joy  that 
you  have  come.  My  dear  father  is  very  ill,  but  I 


376  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

know  he  will  be  glad  to  see  you.  He  is  worrying 
very  much." 

Sam  followed  her  to  a  room  at  the  back  of  the 
house,  which  she  opened,  and  motioned  for  him 
to  enter.  Sam  entered  the  room,  the  door  was 
shut  and  locked,  and  he  found  himself  in  a  large 
square  room,  absolutely  without  furniture,  and 
he  was  confronted  by  Simpson,  a  bull-necked, 
red-faced  ruffian  whose  face  was  familiar,  and  a 
dozen  of  as  tough-looking  citizens  as  he  had  seen 
in  his  life. 

"Well,  young  feller,"  said  Simpson,  with  a 
snarling  smile,  "this  time  we  have  got  the  drop 
on  you." 

Sam  saw  he  was  trapped,  and  that  curiously 
nervous,  tingling  sensation  came  over  him,  a  sen 
sation  that  was  akin  to  pleasure,  a  sort  of  exalta 
tion  that  made  him  long  for  combat.  But  his 
reason  told  him  he  was  in  a  very  desperate  and 
dangerous  situation  that  called  for  the  utmost 
diplomacy  and  the  exercise  of  every  faculty.  At 
all  events  he  would  try  to  keep  from  a  row. 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  he  said  quietly,  "what  do 
vou  wish  of  me?" 

V 

"Hear  the  sweet  young  gentleman,  'What  do 
you  wish  of  me?'"  mimicked  Simpson;  "you'll 
find  out  soon  enough,"  he  barked  savagely. 

"Hold  on  a  minute,  Simpson,  let  me  speak," 
said  the  man  with  the  red  face.  "  If  we  can  make 


HIS  BACK  TO  THE   WALL  377 

any  arrangements  without  trouble,  so  much  the 
better.  Perhaps  Mr.  Randolph,  seeing  his  posi 
tion,  may  come  to  terms." 

"Well,  go  ahead,  then,"  said  Simpson  sulkily; 
"only  don't  be  all  night  about  it." 

"Mr.  Randolph,"  said  the  big  man,  "we 
have  n't  anything  particular  against  you  except 
that  we  feel  that  we  can't  run  our  business  if  you 
are  elected  Solicitor.  And  we  are  going  to  beat 
you  in  one  way  or  another,  by  fair  means  or  foul. 
You  can't  be  County  Solicitor." 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  Sam  coolly,  "but  why 
should  you  get  me  over  here  to  tell  me  that?" 

"Because  we  want  you  to  withdraw  from  the 
campaign  and  sign  a  statement  to  that  effect,  and 
you  are  going  to  do  it  before  you  leave  this 
room." 

"Well,  supposing  I  refuse  to  withdraw,  what 
then?" 

"But  you  can't  refuse;  you  have  got  to  re 
sign,"  said  the  big  man. 

"By  God,  you  won't  leave  this  room  alive,  if 
you  don't  sign  that  statement,  and  do  it  damned 
quick,"  snarled  Simpson. 

Sam  looked  around  the  room.  The  windows 
were  all  higher  than  his  head  and  barred  with 
solid  oak  bars.  There  was  no  opening  but  the 
door  he  came  through  and  that  was  massive  and 
locked.  He  looked  around  at  the  faces  of  the 


378  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

men.  Determination  and  cruelty  were  on  every 
face  and  there  was  no  sign  of  weakness. 

"It  will  be  worse  than  that,  Mr.  Randolph," 
continued  the  big  man.  "If  you  refuse  to  sign, 
we  will  tie  you,  gag  you,  and  hand  you  over  to 
the  authorities  on  the  ground  of  being  intimate 
with  Simpson's  wife.  She  has  been  to  your  office 
several  times,  and  you  came  to  this  house  to 
night  to  see  her,  and  she  is  ready  to  swear  that 
you  came  here  to  see  her  to-night  and  all  the  rest 
of  it.  And  we  are,  too.  Oh,  we've  got  you  this 
time." 

Sam  was  stunned  for  a  moment,  as  the  details 
of  the  horrible  plot  came  over  him,  and  then  his 
heart  beat  as  regularly  as  ever,  but  there  was  a 
tingling  sensation  up  his  spine  and  at  the  back  of 
his  neck  as  if  his  mane  was  rising,  and  he  clinched 
his  teeth,  his  nostrils  spread,  his  nose  tightened 
along  the  bridge,  and  the  color  left  his  face. 

"Well,"  yelled  Simpson,  shaking  his  fist  in 
Sam's  face,  "what  do  you  say?" 

"I'll  see  you  all  damned  first,"  said  Sam  in  a 
low  voice,  but  in  a  tone  that  surprised  himself. 

"Oh,  you  will,  will  you?  Well,  I'll  tell  you 
what  I'll  do.  I'll  ruin  you,  and  I'll  take  that 
little  Polly  of  yours,  and  - 

But  he  never  finished  the  words,  for  Sam 
caught  him  flush  in  the  foul  mouth,  and  he 
dropped  like  a  log  and  lay  senseless.  Then  with 


IK    YOU    KKKUSK    TO    KKSIGN    WE  'LL    TIK    YOU    AND   GAG    YOU. 


HIS  BACK  TO  THE  WALL  379 

yells  and  curses  they  were  on  him.  The  big  man 
spun  round  with  a  fearful  swing  on  the  ear,  an 
other  man's  head  snapped  back  with  a  lightning 
left,  and  then  the  crowd  closed  in,  and  Sam  was 
fighting  for  his  life. 

Blows  were  rained  on  him,  they  seized  him 
from  behind,  they  tore  at  him  like  maniacs.  He 
hurled  them  off,  struck  them  down,  striking  ter 
rific  blows  like  piston  rods.  The  fight  swayed 
here  and  there,  across  the  room,  in  the  corners, 
against  the  sides.  God !  he  is  down  in  a  heaving, 
struggling,  cursing  heap.  He  is  up  again,  and  a 
man  lies  inert  with  his  arm  twisted  under  him. 
Another  is  felled  like  a  log  and  lies  there,  but  the 
rest  are  at  him  like  wolves.  Gone  is  their  wish  to 
tie  him;  they  mean  to  kill  him  and  he  knows  it, 
but  glories  in  the  fight.  Was  there  ever  such  a 
fight!  Sam  fought  with  his  arms,  his  head,  his 
shoulders,  and  his  legs.  He  was  all  over  the  room, 
hitting,  tripping,  driving,  staggering,  swinging 
his  shoulders,  wrenching  loose  from  clinging 
hands,  bleeding  and  disfigured  from  blows,  pant 
ing  with  his  exertions,  but  fighting  like  a  bison 
beset  by  wolves.  In  spite  of  his  desperate  need, 
in  spite  of  the  hurly-burly  of  the  heaving,  sway 
ing  fight,  in  spite  of  the  rain  of  blows,  Sam  fought 
with  method,  striving  to  disable  and  knock 
senseless  his  most  dangerous  opponents. 

Three  were  on  the  floor,  lying  like  dead  men, 


380  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

another  cowered  in  a  corner,  shielding  his  head 
with  his  arms.  Every  now  and  then  Sam  cleared 
a  space,  and  then  a  mighty  drive  sent  a  man 
down  to  stay,  but  the  crowd  of  cursing  maniacs 
would  close  on  him  like  rats  in  a  pit.  In  the  other 
part  of  the  house,  the  women,  listening  to  the 
savage  fight,  began  to  scream,  but  the  fight  went 
on.  It  seemed  as  if  he  would  beat  them  all,  but 
Simpson  had  recovered,  and,  seizing  a  heavy 
bottle  from  his  pocket  and  watching  his  chance 
in  the  heaving  whirlpool  of  struggling  forms, 
struck  Sam  a  crashing  blow  on  the  forehead. 
Sam  staggered,  fell  to  his  knees  with  the  blood 
pouring  from  his  forehead,  half-rose,  and  then 
went  down  with  the  maddened  beasts  tearing  at 
his  throat. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

COUNTY    SOLICITOR 

A  FEW  moments  after  Sam  had  mounted  his 
horse  and  started  for  the  Senorita's  house,  the 
boy  suddenly  remembering  her  injunction  to 
bring  back  her  note,  and  that  Sam  had  left  it  on 
his  table,  hurried  back  to  the  room  to  get  it,  as  he 
had  a  wholesome  fear  of  that  lady.  He  found  the 
note,  picked  it  up,  read  it  to  be  sure,  and  started 
to  leave  the  room  when  he  met  Ben,  who  had  run 
up  to  see  Sam.  His  look  of  confusion  and  guilt, 
and  the  hasty  manner  in  which  he  concealed  the 
note  in  his  pocket,  attracted  Ben's  attention. 

"Here,  boy,  what  have  you  got  there,  and 
what  are  you  doing  in  this  room?" 

The  boy  made  no  answer,  but  ducking  his 
head,  attempted  to  dash  by  Ben,  who  caught 
him  by  the  arm,  swung  him  round,  and  pinned 
him  against  the  wall. 

"Look  here,  you  sneak  thief,  show  me  what 
you  have  stolen,  or  I  '11  hand  you  over  to  the  po 
lice,"  growled  Ben,  tightening  his  grip. 

"S'welp  me  God!  I  ain't  stole  nothing,  boss, 
I  brought  a  note  to  Mr.  Randolph,  and  the 
woman  told  me  to  bring  the  note  back  or  she'd 


382  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

skin  me,  and  she'll  do  it  too.  So  I  came  back  to 
get  it." 

"Don't  lie  to  me,  boy,"  said  Ben,  giving  him  a 
shake. 

"I  ain't  lyin',  hope  to  die  and  cross  my 
throat,"  said  the  boy.  "Here  is  the  note." 

Ben  glanced  at  the  note,  read  it,  smiled  grimly, 
and  said,  "You  young  liar,  what  do  you  mean  by 
telling  such  a  fool  lie  as  that?  It  is  only  a  business 
note  about  her  sick  father  making  a  will.  She 
did  n't  want  the  note  back.  You  made  that  lie  up 
to  come  back  and  steal  something." 

"I  did  n't,  boss,  I  did  n't.  She  ain't  got  no 
father.  She  is  a  terrible  woman.  She  and  the  men 
over  there  have  got  it  in  for  Mr.  Randolph." 

"What  do  you  mean?  Speak  up,"  said  Ben 
sharply. 

"Why,  I  heard  them  talking  about  sending  a 
note  to  him  and  getting  him  over  there  and  mak 
ing  him  do  something." 

"Who  were  the  men?" 

The  boy  glanced  apprehensively  at  Ben's  set 
face. 

"They'll  kill  me  if  I  tell,"  he  whimpered. 

"  I  '11  kill  you  if  you  don't,"  hissed  Ben,  putting 
his  face  close  to  the  boy's,  and  grasping  him  so 
tightly  by  the  wrists  that  he  cried  out  in  pain. 

"Oh!  Bill  Simpson,  and  Jim  Duval,  and  Big 
Pete,  and  a  lot  of  others." 


COUNTY   SOLICITOR  383 

"Where  were  they  and  where  did  they  expect 
Mr.  Randolph  to  come?"  demanded  Ben. 

"At  the  *  Pond  Lily '  on  the  Oceanbrook  Road," 
replied  the  boy. 

Ben  dashed  down  the  stairs,  dragging  the  boy 
after  him.  "Hurry,  boy!  don't  try  to  get  away. 
I  will  make  this  the  best  day's  pay  you  ever 
earned." 

They  rushed  down  the  street  to  Alvy's  burst 
into  the  office,  and  Ben  yelled,  "Alvy!  Alvy! 
hitch  your  two  best  horses  into  a  two-seated 
wagon,  quicker  than  damnation.  There's  a  hell 
ish  scheme  to  do  Randolph  up.  How  long  ago  did 
he  leave?" 

"About  fifteen  minutes,"  said  Alvy. 

"Good  God!  we  have  lost  so  much  time," 
groaned  Ben.  "Hurry  up  those  horses,  it  may  be 
a  matter  of  life  or  death." 

Alvy  sprang  away,  yelling  for  John  and  Pat. 
Ben  rushed  for  the  telephone,  rung  up  the  Ma 
jor's,  got  Mad  and  told  him  the  news  and  to 
hurry  up  his  team,  called  up  the  gymnasium,  and 
in  a  few  moments  Williams,  Bill  Evans,  and 
Brown  dashed  into  the  stable-yard  at  a  run, 
shortly  followed  by  J.  Wadlin,  swinging  a  club, 
several  pairs  of  handcuffs  and  a  coil  of  rope,  just 
as  Pat,  who  was  rushing  out  with  one  of  the  har 
nessed  horses,  kicked  the  stable  dog  about  ten 
feet  for  getting  underfoot.  The  horses  were 


384  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

hooked  up  with  the  rapidity  of  fire  horses  at  a 
general  alarm,  the  men  piled  in  madly,  Brown 
seized  the  lines,  and  away  they  went  around  the 
corner,  the  wagon  heeling  dangerously  to  one 
side. 

Quick  as  they  \vere,  the  Major's  men  were 
equally  alert,  and  as  they  dashed  by  the  Rum- 
scott  Stables  the  Major's  best  pair  of  blacks  were 
being  rushed  from  the  stable  by  excited  men, 
while  Mad,  standing  in  the  wagon,  bawled  direc 
tions,  and  several  brawny  acquaintances  of  Sam's 
were  climbing  over  the  wheels  and  swearing 
loudly. 

Brown  pulled  his  restive  horses  up  as  he 
passed.  "Hurry  up,  Mad,  he's  got  fifteen  min 
utes  the  start  of  us.  We  will  drive  easy  for  a 
mile,  and  then  we  will  have  to  drive  like  hell,  and 
we  may  be  too  late  then";  and  away  he  went,  the 
horses  held  hard,  but  trotting  briskly.  At  the 
half-mile  bridge,  Brown  let  out  a  link  and  they 
increased  their  stride.  Mad  was  not  far  behind, 
for  the  thunder  of  the  blacks'  hoofs  on  the  bridge 
was  heard. 

Up  the  long  incline  beyond  the  second  bridge 
they  went  trotting  strongly,  then  Brown  let  out 
a  fold  of  the  reins  and  the  off  horse  went  off  his 
feet  in  a  sharp  gallop,  then  the  nigh  horse  joined 
him,  and  objects  began  to  fly  past  in  the  dim 
light.  The  blacks  had  gained,  and  were  but  a  few 


COUNTY  SOLICITOR  385 

rods  behind,  both  galloping.  From  far  off  came 
the  thunder  of  a  galloping  horse  striking  the 
bridge,  then  later  a  louder  rumble  as  it  passed 
over  the  second  bridge.  The  second  mile  passed 
with  a  rush,  the  third  at  increased  speed.  The 
carriage  swayed  dangerously  at  corners,  several 
times  it  seemed  as  if  they  must  go  over,  but  Mad 
and  Brown  were  famous  drivers  and  knew  the 
road.  Stones  and  gravel  flew  in  showers,  and  as 
they  entered  the  last  mile,  Brown  swung  the 
whip  and  yelled  to  his  horses,  and  they  plunged 
into  their  collars  like  wild  things.  An  answering 
yell  from  Mad,  an  increased  stride  by  the  splen 
did  straining  blacks,  while  but  a  half-mile  behind 
came  an  Indian  pony,  flying  like  the  wind  bear 
ing  a  young  girl,  who  rode  like  a  witch,  urging 
her  mount  with  heel  and  voice  and  whip.  It  was 
Polly.  Her  hat  was  gone,  her  hair  flying,  her  eyes 
blazing,  and  her  ears  straining  for  the  thunder  of 
the  teams  in  front. 

And  now  the  teams  swing  [into  the  lane  to  the 
house,  and  the  sounds  of  the  battle  and  the  terri 
fied  screams  of  the  women  are  heard,  the  men  are 
leaning  forward  ready  to  jump.  The  horses  are 
pulled  to  their  haunches,  the  men  spring  from  the 
wagon,  and  rush  up  the  steps  like  stampeding 
cattle.  Bill  Evans  is  ahead.  He  is  met  by  a  tig 
ress  of  a  woman,  with  blazing  eyes  and  white 
face,  who  tries  to  bar  the  door,  shrieking  curses. 


386  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Bill  seizes  her  by  the  arm,  dashes  her  aside,  and 
rushes  in  the  direction  from  which  the  sounds  of 
the  fight  come.  He  dashes  against  the  door,  it 
holds,  again  he  hurls  his  huge  body  against  it,  it 
shakes,  but  does  not  give  way.  Mad,  Brown, 
Ben,  Pat,  and  Bill  rush  together.  There  is  a 
crash  and  the  door  splinters  and  falls,  and  the 
men  dash  into  the  room  to  fall  over  prostrate, 
struggling,  cursing  men,  who  are  torn  from  their 
victim,  dashed  to  the  floor,  hand-cuffed,  and  tied, 
and  thrown  into  corners  like  sacks  of  flour. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  heap  they  found  Sam, 
dreadfully  bruised  and  cut,  covered  with  blood, 
his  clothing  in  rags,  alive,  and  panting  like  a  dog, 
but  undismayed  and  able  in  a  few  minutes  to 
gain  his  legs.  Indeed,  in  some  respects,  he  was  in 
better  condition  than  some  of  his  assailants.  The 
red-faced  man,  red  no  longer,  but  bruised,  swol 
len,  and  purple,  had  his  jaw  broken;  Devlin's  arm 
was  broken;  Mace  had  a  shoulder  dislocated  and 
collar-bone  broken  by  being  thrown  completely 
over  Sam's  head;  Simpson's  nose  was  smashed 
flat,  the  blood  had  soaked  his  shirt  front,  and  his 
lips  were  swollen  and  puffed  like  tomatoes;  every 
one  else  was  bruised  and  bloody.  But  the  most 
serious  thing  was  to  come,  for,  as  the  officers 
were  hustling  the  prisoners  from  the  room,  the 
Senorita  reappeared,  a  white-faced,  blazing  fury. 
She  had  rushed  to  Simpson's  room,  hunted  up 


COUNTY  SOLICITOR  387 

his  heavy  Western  revolver,  and  wild  with  rage 
at  the  heavy  fall  Bill  Evans  had  given  her,  aimed 
it  at  him  before  any  one  could  stop  her,  and  just 
as  Polly,  who  had  sprung  from  her  panting  pony, 
rushed  in  at  the  door.  At  her  shriek  of  warning, 
Bill  turned,  made  a  frantic  endeavor  to  strike  up 
her  arm.  There  was  a  stunning  report,  a  groan,  a 
fall,  and  Simpson  lay  on  the  floor  shot  through 
the  forehead. 

The  rage  died  out  of  the  Senorita's  face,  the 
weapon  dropped  to  the  floor,  and  for  a  moment 
she  stared  at  him;  then  dropping  to  her  knees  she 
took  the  head  of  the  dead  man  in  her  lap  and 
rocked  to  and  fro  in  wild  grief.  Ben,  who  had 
seen  Polly  enter,  had  hurried  her  out  of  the 
house,  assuring  her  that  Sam  was  not  seriously 
hurt,  and,  persuading  her  to  mount  her  pony,  led 
him  away  and  out  of  sight  and  hearing  of  the 
dreadful  house,  whence  Sam  slowly  and  limpingly 
followed.  Horses  and  carriages  were  obtained  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  soon  they  were  on  their 
way  home,  where  later  came  the  gruesome  pro 
cession  of  the  dead  and  wounded. 

The  next  morning  the  entire  gang  were  duly 
committed  for  trial  without  bail,  but  Sam  was 
unable  to  appear,  and  lay  in  bed  bandaged  and 
patched,  as  he  said,  "like  an  old  pair  of  boots,'* 
and  raging  at  his  inability  to  keep  his  platform 
engagement. 


388  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

But  it  was  kept,  for  when  the  hour  came  for  the 
speech,  to  the  great  surprise  of  those  gathered  in 
the  hall,  there  appeared  on  the  platform  the  most 
prominent  men  of  that  town,  and  the  Captain, 
the  Senator,  Caleb  Terrill,  J.  Wadlin,  the  Major, 
Mr.  Timson,  and  Squire  Ira  Branch.  Not  the 
Ira  Branch  of  the  past  few  months,  but  the  Ira 
Branch  of  old,  —  strong,  erect,  commanding, 
with  the  white  fire  of  health  and  enthusiasm 
burning  in  his  eyes.  What  a  speech  they  heard 
that  night!  Brilliant,  eloquent,  forceful.  A 
speech  that  Wendell  Phillips  might  have  envied, 
or  Webster  have  rejoiced  in.  And  when  it  was 
over,  the  audience  arose  as  one  man  and  the 
building  shook  with  their  cheers  and  shouts. 
And  it  was  impossible  to  say  whether  their  cheers 
were  the  louder  for  the  young  man  who  had  held 
his  own  with  the  gang  of  thugs,  sworn  to  disgrace 
or  kill  him,  or  for  the  old  man  who  had  come  to 
his  own  again. 

And  for  every  night  before  the  election  did  the 
Squire  speak,  crowding  the  houses,  and  winning 
by  his  eloquence,  his  force,  his  sound  common 
sense,  and  the  vast  respect  and  admiration  in 
which  he  was  held,  the  utmost  enthusiasm  for  his 
candidate,  and  when  the  election  was  held,  Sam 
was  chosen  Solicitor  by  the  largest  majority  ever 
given  for  a  successful  candidate. 

When  the  court  re-convened,  a  special  grand 


COUNTY  SOLICITOR  389 

jury  was  empaneled,  and  although  Langdon's 
term  of  office  did  not  expire  until  the  next  April, 
yet  he  was  so  disgusted  that  he  resigned,  and 
Sam  was  appointed  Commissioner  to  perform  the 
duties  of  Solicitor  by  the  Supreme  Court;  and 
entered  at  once  upon  these  duties,  and  when  the 
jury  had  finished  their  labors,  not  only  were 
Sam's  assailants  indicted  for  assault  with  intent 
to  kill  and  murder,  but  indictments  were  found 
against  Colonel  Van  Cleves,  Bob  Tiverton,  and 
all  the  incorporators  of  the  race-track  for  main 
taining  a  gambling-place. 

These  men  promptly  retaliated  by  refusing  to 
pay  any  more  bills  for  the  erection  of  the  large 
and  elegant  buildings  of  the  plant.  These  bills, 
amounting  to  an  enormous  sum  of  money,  were 
put  in  the  Squire's  hands  for  collection,  and  Sam, 
hearing  from  Tom  that  the  Colonel  and  Tiverton 
were  to  be  in  the  northern  part  of  the  state  in  a 
trip  to  Maine  during  the  deer-shooting  season, 
prepared  writs,  containing  notices  to  be  ready 
for  trial  at  the  first  term  of  court,  in  January, 
and,  to  the  Colonel's  unbounded  anger  and  dis 
gust,  secured  personal  service  on  both  Bob  and 
the  Colonel,  of  writs  calling  on  them  to  pay  the 
entire  amount,  the  Improvement  Company  not 
being  a  limited  corporation,  and  the  directors 
being  individually  liable. 

The  Colonel  fairly  exploded  with  wrath.    "A 


390  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

dirty,  pettifogging,  shyster  trick!"  he  yelled  at 
Sam.  "Here  you  have  me  indicted,  so  I  cannot 
come  into  your  damned  rotten  old  state,  and 
then  you  sue  me  for  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
dollars  and  try  it  in  your  own  court.  A  dirty, 
swindling  trick." 

"Keep  your  temper,  Colonel,"  laughed  Sam; 
"you  shall  have  every  opportunity  to  come  in 
and  defend  your  suits  without  arrest.  The  court 
will  grant  you  that,  even  if  I  would  n't.  I  could 
have  had  a  capias  to-day  if  I  had  wished.  No, 
Colonel,  it 's  my  turn  now,  but  you  are  going  to 
get  what  you  never  gave  a  man  in  your  life,  a 
fair  and  open  chance.  After  I  make  you  pay  your 
honest  bills  in  New  Hampshire,  then  I  will  see 
what  I  can  do  to  send  you  to  jail " ;  and  he  walked 
out,  leaving  the  Colonel  purple  with  rage. 

On  Sam's  return  to  the  office  and  at  his  ecca- 
sional  suppers  at  the  Squire's,  he  found,  very 
much  to  his  surprise  and  chagrin,  that  Miss  Polly 
treated  him  in  a  very  distant  manner.  Indeed, 
she  manifested  the  utmost  indifference  to  his 
affairs,  and,  when  Sam  endeavored  to  find  out  in 
what  way  he  had  offended  her,  was  most  prop 
erly  reduced  to  his  least  common  denominator 
and  put  in  his  place. 

This  troubled  Sam  a  good  deal,  for  insensibly 
and  for  a  long  time  he  had  been  developing  a  very 
strong  affection  for  that  young  lady,  a  feeling 


COUNTY  SOLICITOR  391 

very  different  from  the  semi-paternal,  elder- 
brotherly  feeling  he  had  had  for  her  since  he 
came  to  Elmtown.  Indeed,  when,  at  the  close  of 
his  terrible  fight  that  night,  he  had  realized  that 
Polly  had  ridden  her  pony  almost  to  death  to  get 
there  in  time  to  help  him,  he  vowed  to  himself 
that  he  would  willingly  have  taken  a  much  worse 
beating  for  that. 

But  when  Sam  attempted  to  thank  her  for  her 
interest  and  kindness,  which,  if  he  had  known 
anything,  he  would  not  have  dared,  she  made  up 
a  most  atrocious  fabrication  of  how  she  had  been 
riding  that  evening  and  the  teams  passed  her,  and 
something  started  her  pony,  and  for  the  life  of 
her  she  could  not  pull  him  down,  and  he  fairly 
ran  away  with  her;  that  she  left  just  as  soon  as 
she  learned  that  it  was  a  drunken  fight;  which 
last  statement  hurt  Sam's  feelings  so  much  that 
he  became  very  stiff  and  formal.  Whereat  Polly 
at  once  became  quite  confidential  and  friendly, 
and  urged  Sam  to  give  up  his  dissolute  com 
panions  and  be  more  like  —  well,  like  Tom,  for 
instance.  Whereupon  Sam  said,  "Damn  Tom," 
and  left  in  a  huff,  at  which  Polly  laughed  wick 
edly.  And  like  a  woman  got  in  the  last  word  by 
saying,  with  her  nose  in  the  air,  "Well,  Tom  may 
not  be  able  to  fight  as  well  as  some  people,  but  he 
certainly  would  not  swear  in  the  presence  of  a 
lady."  However,  they  were  both  so  happy  in  the 


392  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

wonderful  change  for  the  better  in  the  Squire, 
and  the  general  lifting  of  the  cloud  of  gloom  that 
had  hung  over  them  so  long,  that  they  thought 
the  world  a  very  bright  place. 

But  in  spite  of  Polly's  apparent  indifference  to 
Sam,  you  may  be  sure  that  she  was  by  no  means 
as  indifferent  as  she  appeared.  That  she  was 
ready  to  resent  any  criticism  of  him  that  was 
made  by  individuals  or  newspapers,  and  the 
latter  had  by  no  means  forgiven  him  for  over 
turning  their  prediction. 

In  his  official  duties  he  came  in  for  much  crit 
icism  from  reformers  in  his  own  party,  who  quite 
naturally  thought  that  he  as  their  candidate 
would  feel  called  upon  to  make  sweeping  prosecu 
tions  in  the  interest  of  their  particular  line  of  re 
form.  Prohibitionists  desired  the  absolute  en 
forcement  of  the  law  and  endless  prosecution. 
Societies  for  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to  animals 
were  constantly  importuning  and  commanding 
investigations;  ditto  of  children  would  take  the 
bringing-up  of  children,  and  particularly  the 
home  discipline  of  the  same,  almost  entirely  out 
of  the  hands  of  their  parents  or  guardians.  In 
short,  every  kind  of  reformer  camped  in  his  office 
until  they  found  that  he  had  ideas  of  his  own 
which  he  was  quite  capable  of  carrying  out.  He 
listened  patiently  and  courteously,  and  made  his 
decision  promptly. 


COUNTY  SOLICITOR  393 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  one  day  to  a  delegation 
of  reformers,  who  attended  him,  "I  am  ready  as 
Solicitor,  to  hear  any  complaints  you  may  have, 
and  to  act  upon  them  at  the  county's  expense 
when  I  think  the  prosecution  ought  to  be  made. 
In  such  cases  I  am  willing  to  act  as  complainant, 
but  in  all  cases  when  I  do  not  think  the  prosecu 
tion  to  be  for  the  public  good,  I  shall  decline  to 
act.  In  all  cases  I  shall  ask  and  demand  the  as 
sistance  of  those  making  the  complaint.  I  do  not 
intend  to  have  thrust  upon  the  shoulders  of,  or 
charged  to  the  pecuniary  account  of  the  County 
of  Rockaway,  the  private  feuds  of  citizens.  In 
case  of  conviction  I  shall  not  always  insist  upon 
a  sentence.  There  will  be,  undoubtedly,  many 
cases  in  which  I  shall  ask  for  a  suspended  sen 
tence.  But  I  do  intend  that  the  people  shall  re 
spect  and  obey  the  law;  not  only  our  citizens,  but 
those  who  come  from  other  states  to  take  advan 
tage  of  our  institutions.  I  shall  shirk  no  duty, 
and  I  do  not  intend  that  the  people  shall  shirk 
their  own." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  GREAT  LEGAL  BATTLE 

AT  the  January  Term  the  case  against  the  Colo 
nel  and  Bob  came  up,  not  for  actual  trial, 
but  upon  a  motion  for  the  Court  to  frame  issues  for 
a  jury  trial,  the  original  writ  being  a  bill  in  equity 
to  be  acted  upon  by  the  Court  sitting  as  an  equity 
tribunal.  So  many  disputed  questions  of  fact 
arose,  that  it  was  the  Squire's  idea  to  have  a  jury 
pass  on  the  facts,  the  Court  upon  the  law  solely. 
He  judged  that  a  finding  of  facts  by  the  jury,  as 
he  contended  they  should  be  found,  would  prac 
tically  settle  the  case,  as  the  law  had  previously 
determined  the  legal  liability  of  stockholders  in 
corporations  not  limited.  His  notice  to  defend 
ants  to  be  ready  for  trial  was  not  in  expectation 
of  actual  trial,  as  he  had  no  idea  that  the  Court 
would  do  more  than  frame  the  jury  issues,  but  he 
felt  sure  that  by  insisting  on  his  legal  rights  for 
trial  the  Court  would  at  least  set  the  case  for  the 
first  jury  trial  at  the  next  term  in  April. 

This  was  exactly  what  took  place.  There  was 
a  long  and  bitterly  contested  hearing,  in  which 
Strasser,  Holley,  and  Company  appeared  for  the 
defendants  and  with  great  ability  and  vigor  con- 


THE   GREAT  LEGAL  BATTLE        395 

tested  every  point,  but  eventually  issues  were 
framed.  To  the  Squire's  motion  for  an  immedi 
ate  impaneling  of  a  jury,  Strasser  objected  vehe 
mently  and  argued  very  forcibly  for  a  general 
continuance.  Finally,  the  Squire  apparently 
yielded  a  point,  and  allowed  the  Court  to  set  the 
day  of  trial  for  the  first  day  of  the  April  Term, 
which  was  just  what  he  wanted. 

Between  the  January  Term  and  the  April 
Term  both  the  Squire  and  Sam  went  to  New 
York  several  times  to  take  depositions  in  this 
action,  and  in  spite  of  the  adroitness  of  the 
Colonel's  counsel  made  satisfactory  progress. 

It  was  evident  that  the  Colonel  would  fight 
every  inch  of  the  ground,  would  raise  every  tech 
nical  objection  that  could  be  invented,  and  would 
spare  no  pains  and  no  expense  in  defeating  Sam 
and  the  Squire.  Apart  from  the  loss  of  the  money 
which,  notwithstanding  his  wealth,  meant  a 
great  deal  to  the  Colonel,  he  had  an  old-time 
grudge  against  the  Squire,  and  he  hated  Sam 
with  a  fervor  that  made  his  eyes  grow  bloodshot 
every  time  he  thought  of  him.  And  Bob  Tiver- 
ton,  in  his  weak,  vicious  way,  hated  them  both  as 
much  as  he  could. 

The  Squire  and  Sam  prepared  the  case  with 
the  thoroughness  that  its  importance  demanded, 
and  weeks  before  the  April  Term  were  ready  for 
trial  at  a  moment's  notice.  At  the  opening  day  of 


396  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

the  term,  Strasser,  of  the  Capital  City,  upon  the 
calling  of  the  docket  made  a  motion  for  a  contin 
uance,  and  argued  it  with  great  force,  introducing 
several  affidavits.  Sam  replied  at  some  length 
and  the  Court  overruled  the  motion. 

Next  came  a  motion  for  a  change  of  venue, 
which  the  Court  overruled  on  the  ground  that  a 
motion  of  this  kind  did  not  lie  for  this  form  of 
action,  a  claim  for  goods  furnished  and  labor 
performed.  The  Court  agreed,  however,  to  a 
postponement  until  the  Tuesday  following  the 
second  week  of  the  term,  and  the  case  was  set  for 
ten  o'clock  of  that  day. 

As  there  were  no  criminal  cases  of  importance 
at  that  term,  Sam  was  not  overworked,  although 
he  and  the  Squire  tried  several  jury  cases  during 
the  first  and  second  week  of  the  term,  just 
enough,  as  Sam  said,  to  get  them  into  good  fight 
ing  condition.  On  Monday  evening,  Van  Cleves, 
Tiverton,  and  their  lawyers  and  witnesses  arrived, 
and  took  possession  of  all  of  the  best  rooms  at  the 
Rumscott,  which  they  had  engaged  weeks  be 
fore. 

Several  of  the  men  who  had  attended  the 
Colonel's  conference  in  Boston  the  previous 
summer,  called  on  him.  Several  men  who  always 
had  important  business  at  the  various  terms  of 
court,  and  who  were  spoken  of  as  "jury  fixers," 
were  also  in  town  and  called  on  the  Colonel.  The 


THE   GREAT  LEGAL  BATTLE        397 

week  before,  the  Judge,  at  the  request  of  the 
Squire,  had  charged  the  entire  panel  of  jurymen 
as  to  their  duties  as  jurors,  and  the  selectmen  of 
the  various  towns  in  the  county,  to  whom  the 
duty  of  drawing  jurors  had  been  by  law  intrusted, 
had  taken  extraordinary  pains  to  include  in  the 
list  of  eligibles  only  men  of  sound  judgment  and 
unimpeachable  integrity.  None  the  less,  Sam  and 
the  Squire  had  made  arrangements  to  have  these 
"jury  fixers"  watched  with  the  utmost  care. 

The  next  day  at  the  ringing  of  the  Court-House 
bell,  every  seat  in  the  court-room  outside  the  bar 
had  been  taken  and  nearly  all  within.  The  wit 
ness  seats  were  crowded,  the  jury  box  full,  the 
reporters'  seats  occupied,  and  the  only  vacant 
seats  were  around  the  tables  for  the  attorneys. 

The  entry  of  the  New  York  attorneys  was 
something  in  the  nature  of  a  procession.  There 
were  Fitzgerald  and  Henderson,  Anthony,  Dra 
per  and  Evertson,  and  old  Isaac  Robertson,  the 
keenest,  shrewdest  man  at  nisi  prius  in  New 
York  City.  Colonel  Van  Cleves  and  Tiverton 
followed  and  took  seats  near  their  counsel,  who 
grouped  around  their  long  table.  Next  came  the 
Squire  and  Sam,  who  sat  down  at  the  head  table. 

The  buzz  of  conversation  that  arose  as  the 
New  York  lawyers  came  in  was  hushed  as  the 
Judge  ascended  the  bench,  and  all  arose  and 
stood  until  he  took  his  seat. 


398  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Are  the  parties  ready  in  Leadenhall  Brothers 
v.  Van  Cleves  et  al?"  inquired  the  Court. 

"  We  are  ready,  your  Honor,"  said  Sam,  rising. 

"And  we  are  ready,"  said  Mr.  Fitzgerald. 

"The  clerk  will  impanel  a  jury,"  said  the 
Court,  turning  to  that  official. 

Thereupon  the  clerk  proceeded  to  call  the 
names  of  twelve  men,  who  took  their  seats  in  the 
jury  box  on  the  left  of  the  Judge.  After  the  jury 
had  been  drawn,  the  Judge,  addressing  them, 
said,  "This  is  an  action  in  which  James  B.  Lead 
enhall  seeks  to  recover  of  John  C.  Van  Cleves 
and  Robert  Tiverton  the  price  of  building-mate 
rials  and  labor  alleged  to  have  been  sold  to  the 
Connecticut  River  Improvement  Company,  a 
corporation,  and  laid  out  upon  the  erection  of 
their  buildings  in  the  Town  of  Salvage,  in  this 
county.  If  any  of  you  gentlemen  are  related  to 
the  plaintiff  or  the  defendants,  Van  Cleves  and 
Tiverton,  or  their  attorneys,  or  if  you  have  stock 
in  the  Improvement  Company,  or  have  had  deal 
ings  with  it,  or  live  in  the  Town  of  Salvage,  or 
have  heard  the  case  talked  over,  or  read  of  it  in 
the  papers  to  such  an  extent  that  you  have 
formed  an  opinion  adverse  to  either  of  the  parties 
to  this  action,  or  if  you  have  cases  in  this  court  in 
which  you  are  represented  by  either  of  the  coun 
sel  taking  part  in  this  trial,  you  will  please  inform 
the  Court." 


399 

One  man  arose.   "I  have  lost  considerable  — " 

"Stop  there,  sir!"  said  the  Court  sharply. 
:'The  Court  does  not  wish  to  know  any  of  the 
circumstances.  All  it  is  necessary  to  do  is  to  tell 
me  have  you  formed  an  opinion,  or  are  you  preju 
diced?" 

"I  be,  your  honor,"  replied  the  man. 

"You  may  step  down,  sir,"  said  the  Court,  and 
the  clerk  drew  another  name  from  the  box. 

This  man,  having  been  duly  charged  by  the 
Judge,  retained  his  seat,  and  the  panel  was  sub 
mitted  to  the  counsel,  who,  after  having  con 
sulted  at  length,  made  no  challenge. 

Then  Sam  arose,  bowed  to  the  Judge  and  to 
the  jury,  read  the  declaration  and  the  specifica 
tions,  and  then  gave  a  quiet  summary  of  the 
evidence  he  intended  to  submit  to  the  jury. 
There  was  no  ornate  speech  or  rounded  periods, 
but  a  simple  statement  of  facts  that  every  jury 
man  could  understand  readily.  Not  a  necessary 
word  omitted,  not  an  unnecessary  word  used. 

"A  model  opening,"  was  the  comment  of  the 
lawyers. 

'The  tamest  speech  I  ever  heard,"  said  the 
laymen. 

"Phwat  th'  divil  ails  th'  bhoy,  he  did  n't  call 
ony  wan  av  thim  fool,  liar,  or  son-av-a-goon," 
said  Pat  to  old  John. 

"Lave  him  be,  lave  him  be,  Pat,"  said  old 


400  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

John.   "  Sure,  ye  don't  want  to  sthart  a  long  dis- 
thance  race  at  a  fasht  qua-a-rther,"  said  John. 

As  Sam  finished  his  opening,  he  conferred  a 
moment  with  the  Squire  and  then  called  as  his 
first  witness,  "Colonel  Van  Cleves,  John  C.  Van 
Cleves." 

There  was  a  pause  and  the  eight  lawyers  for 
the  defense  arose  to  protest.  They  had  never 
heard  of  such  an  irregular  proceeding  in  their 
many  years  of  practice.  They  quoted  the  bill  of 
rights,  they  quoted  the  statute  of  the  state 
whereby  "  No  person  shall  be  compelled  in  testi 
fying  to  disclose  the  names  of  the  witnesses  by 
whom  nor  the  manner  in  which  he  proposes  to 
prove  his  case."  Sam  answered  by  quoting  the 
statute  to  the  effect  that  "No  person  shall  be  ex 
cused  or  excluded  from  testifying  in  any  civil 
cause  by  reason  of  his  interest  therein,  as  a  party 
or  otherwise.'* 

The  defendants'  lawyers  answered  hotly,  and 
after  a  most  protracted  dispute  the  Court  ruled 
that  the  Colonel  must  testify,  and  that  choleric 
gentleman,  casting  a  furious  look  at  Sam,  took 
the  stand,  and  Sam,  to  the  surprise  of  those  pres 
ent,  began  his  examination.  The  defendants' 
counsel,  who  had  intended  keeping  the  Colonel 
from  testifying,  if  possible,  as  they  well  knew  his 
choleric  disposition,  and  feared  the  result,  deter 
mined  to  block  Sam  in  every  possible  way.  Ac- 


THE  GREAT  LEGAL  BATTLE         401 

cordingly  there  was  an  objection  and  an  argu 
ment  over  the  admissibility  of  every  question  of 
importance. 

Sam  answered  the  objections  concisely  and 
very  much  to  the  point,  sometimes  withdrew  a 
question  to  save  an  exception.  At  times,  when 
the  objections  to  questions  of  importance  were  so 
plausibly  argued  by  the  remarkably  able  New 
York  counsel  that  the  tide  of  battle  seemed  to  be 
going  against  Sam,  the  Squire  arose  and  rein 
forced  his  junior  with  masterly  arguments.  Ev- 
ertson  and  old  Isaac  Robertson  were  the  quick 
est,  keenest,  and  most  plausible  advocates,  and 
the  many  tilts  between  the  Squire  and  these  two 
kept  the  audience  on  tiptoe  with  expectation. 

But  Sam  hammered  away,  pressing  an  advan 
tage  here,  giving  ground  there,  intent,  watchful, 
determined,  quickly  observant  of  a  quiet  word 
from  the  Squire,  while  the  Colonel,  gradually  los 
ing  his  temper  and  his  self-possession,  made  the 
most  damaging  admissions,  to  the  unspoken  dis 
may  and  ill-concealed  fury  of  his  counsel,  who 
drew  long  breaths  of  relief  when  at  the  end  of  the 
morning  session,  the  Colonel,  limp,  perspiring, 
shaking,  stepped  down,  or  rather  staggered  to  his 
seat,  and  Sam  called  the  next  witness. 

The  afternoon  was  spent  by  Sam  with  other 
witnesses,  who  were  searchingly  cross-examined 
by  the  New  York  lawyers,  but  with  the  odds  very 


402  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

much  in  favor  of  the  plaintiffs'  contention,  and 
very  much  to  the  open  delight  of  the  local 
audience. 

On  the  second  day  the  New  York  lawyers  had 
their  innings,  and  a  splendid  battle  took  place 
between  their  combined  forces  and  the  Squire, 
who  met  them  at  every  point  in  the  most  gallant 
and  masterful  way.  Never  in  that  court-room 
had  been  seen  a  greater  battle.  The  famous 
"Betty  Farmer  Will  Case,"  in  which  famous 
counsel  were  employed,  sank  into  insignificance 
in  the  minds  of  old  men  present,  who  had  wit 
nessed  that  much-quoted  trial. 

And  when  at  the  close  of  the  second  day  the  de 
fense  rested,  the  result  was  in  doubt. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A    VICTORY 

IT  was  the  last  day  of  the  trial,  and  the  old 
Court-House  was  full.  Full  to  the  outer  doors, 
where  men  stood  and  crowded  and  jostled  one 
another.  Full  to  the  lofty  windows,  where  men 
and  women  sat  and  held  their  breath  and  lis 
tened.  Full  to  the  gallery's  edge  with  silent,  in 
tent,  eager  people. 

The  arguments  were  on.  For  three  days  the 
most  stubbornly  contested  legal  battle  in  years 
had  been  waged.  For  three  days  the  Squire  and 
his  young  assistant  had  held  at  bay  the  most  pro 
found  lawyers,  and  the  most  adroit  tacticians  of 
the  bar,  in  the  country.  To  win  that  case  the  de 
fendant  stockholders  in  the  corporation  had  left 
no  stone  unturned,  no  precaution  neglected,  both 
in  the  selection  of  the  most  eminent  counsel  and 
in  thorough  preparation  of  the  case. 

The  case  had  bristled  with  legal  technicalities. 
Every  quibble  that  legal  ability  and  knowledge 
could  invent,  every  quirk  that  professional 
adroitness  could  distort,  every  shifty  evasion 
that  precedent  could  justify  or  excuse,  had  been 
invented,  distorted,  and  sought  out  with  mas- 


404  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

terly  skill,  but  at  every  turn  and  twist  the  Squire 
had  met  them  with  uncompromising  directness, 
answering  precedent  with  precedent,  theory  with 
fact,  inference  with  conclusion. 

It  had  been  a  hard  battle  and  one  that  had 
demanded  all  the  resources  of  the  Squire's  pow 
erful  personality,  all  his  great  learning,  all  his 
masterly  ability;  and  now,  as  he  delivered  the 
closing  argument  in  the  great  case,  the  silence  in 
the  court-room  was  intense,  the  interest  absorb 
ing.  With  relentless  vigor  he  drove  his  points 
home;  with  masterly  skill  he  brushed  away  the 
sophistries  of  his  opponents;  with  compelling 
logic  he  pursued  his  contentions  to  the  desired 
end.  His  wit  was  as  incisive,  his  sarcasms  were 
as  biting,  his  impassioned  periods  as  majestic  as 
ever,  and  when,  after  a  clear,  convincing,  and 
powerful  exposition  of  law  and  fact,  in  a  digni 
fied,  kindly  manner  he  addressed  a  few  closing 
words  to  the  jury,  reminding  them  of  their 
solemn  obligations  as  jurors,  urging  them  to  be 
above  passion,  above  prejudice,  above  fear, 
above  favor,  to  do  strict  justice  under  the  law 
and  the  evidence,  there  was  not  a  soul  in  the 
crowded  court-house  who  did  not  know  that  he 
had  won  and  won  gloriously,  and  they  sank  back 
into  easier  positions  to  listen  to  the  charge  of  the 
Judge,  clear,  concise,  profound,  flawless,  and 
colorless  as  a  charge  should  be. 


A  VICTORY  405 

The  jury  was  in,  the  verdict  was  read,  and  the 
Squire  had  won.  As  he  passed  slowly  from  the 
room,  avoiding  the  congratulations  of  his  friends, 
and  down  the  gravelled  walk  beneath  the  avenue 
of  drooping  elms,  he  was  weary  of  it  all. 

Outside  in  the  corridors  the  lawyers  were  dis 
cussing  the  case  in  its  various  phases,  while  on 
the  street  knots  of  people  had  gathered  to  talk 
over  the  all-absorbing  topic,  but  he  avoided 
them,  and  took  his  solitary  way  across  the 
square,  over  the  bridge,  and  down  through  a 
shady  lane  that  led  towards  the  river. 

The  sun  was  shining  brightly,  the  birds  were 
singing,  and  the  air  was  full  of  delightful  scents 
and  sounds  that  spoke  of  summer.  Yet  he  saw 
nothing,  heard  nothing,  felt  nothing,  was  barely 
conscious  of  an  undefined  desire  to  get  away 
from  everything,  from  everybody,  and  to  rest. 

And  when  after  a  while  he  awoke  to  the  con 
sciousness  of  his  surroundings,  he  stood  on  the 
bank  of  the  river  near  a  swimming-hole.  He 
knew  it  was  a  swimming-hole,  for  the  bank  was 
worn  away  at  the  edge  of  the  water,  and  there 
was  a  gravelly  bottom  and  the  supports  of  what 
had  been  a  diving-board.  There  was  a  place  in 
his  boyhood  home  strangely  like  this.  How  many 
years  had  passed  away  since  he,  a  little  bare 
footed,  freckled-faced  lad,  had  daily,  morning 
and  afternoon,  come  to  that  spot  for  the  noisy, 


406  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

turbulent,  delightful  swim!  More  than  he  cared 
to  count;  more  than  he  dared  remember;  for  he 
was  an  old  man  now.  An  old  man!  After  all, 
what  did  it  matter? 

His  thoughts  wandered  back  afar.  There  was 
Bill  Abbott,  and  Jed  Austin,  and  Bob  Hale,  and 
Mealy  Austin,  Jed's  brother,  and  Si  Eastman, 
and  a  host  of  others  who  used  to  go  there  to 
swim.  Most  of  them  must  be  dead,  for  that  was 
long  ago.  He  had  seen  Si  a  few  years  back,  an 
old,  bent,  worn-out,  snuffy  man.  Who  would  be 
lieve  that  Si  used  to  dive  from  the  old  beech  tree 
that  used  to  lean  over  the  pool  and  swim  across 
under  water?  He  wondered  if  the  old  beech  tree 
were  still  there.  And  once  there  was  a  boy 
drowned  there.  What  was  his  name?  He  could 
not  remember,  for  it  was  long  ago.  He,  too, 
would  have  been  an  old  man  had  he  lived.  He 
wondered  what  kind  of  a  man  he  would  have 
made,  and  whether  or  not  he  would  have  been  an 
acquaintance  of  his,  and  whether  or  not  he  would 
have  liked  to  be  an  old  man  had  he  lived. 

Other  memories  came  thronging  through  the 
Squire's  mind  as  he  stood  staring  at  the  pool,  and 
looking  back  through  the  years.  But  he  felt 
strangely  tired,  and  seating  himself  at  the  foot  of 
a  tree  let  his  mind  wander  back. 

He  saw  a  happy,  patched,  and  healthy  boy,  a 
mischievous  urchin  and  a  sore  trial  to  his  teach- 


A   VICTORY  407 

ers.  He  saw  that  boy  throwing  spitballs,  fight 
ing,  birds-egging,  coasting,  getting  whipped  at 
school.  And  he  saw  an  old  farmhouse  with  some 
thing  soft  and  black  hanging  from  the  knob  of 
the  door,  and  within,  country  people  and  neigh 
bors  sitting  around  in  silence,  and  the  minister, 
of  whom  he  had  been  afraid  all  his  life,  saying 
something,  he  had  forgotten  what,  and  a  long 
black  silent  thing  in  the  best  room. 

And  then  he  remembered  a  few  years  of  hard 
work  and  scant  kindness,  and  then  his  running 
away  and  going  West  and  what  took  place  there. 
And  that  was  long  ago,  too,  and  did  n't  matter 
much  now,  but  he  —  he  had  really  killed  a 
man. 

And  then  he  had  come  back  with  a  little  child, 
that  man's  child,  but  his,  too,  because  he  had 
taken  her  and  had  lived  for  her.  And  she  had 
grown  up  and  had  died,  and  he  had  lived  to  be  an 
old  man. 

He  became  conscious  of  a  dull  ache  that  ran 
along  his  left  arm  and  twinged  him  curiously.  As 
he  stirred  in  his  seat  a  terrible  pain  shot  through 
his  heart,  a  pain  that  blanched  his  face  and  shook 
him  like  a  sudden  palsy.  What  was  it?  He  had 
never  felt  the  like.  Well,  it  was  gone,  leaving 
him  white  and  shaken,  but  the  dull  ache  re 
mained  in  his  arm  and  shoulder.  He  must  have 
caught  a  slight  cold,  but  here  in  the  sun  it  was 


408  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

warm  enough  and  the  pain  was  nearly,  ah !  —  not 
quite,  but  nearly  gone. 

He  took  from  his  breast  a  little  gold  locket, 
opened  it,  and  looked  at  the  quaint  old-fashioned 
picture  of  a  young  girl  until  tears  blurred  the  fair 
image. 

Well,  he  would  rest  awhile  and  then  go  back 
and  take  up  his  duties,  and  live  the  few  remaining 
years  of  his  life  as  best  he  could  and  uncomplain 
ingly.  But  it  was  such  a  weary,  weary  way,  and 
he  sank  back  with  a  sigh  and  gazed  again  at  the 
little  miniature  while  the  sun  sank  in  the  west, 
the  shadows  of  the  pool  grew  dark  and  sombre, 
and  in  a  thicket  of  alders  across  the  way  a  wood 
thrush  began  its  evening  song. 

And  when  they  found  him,  he  was  smiling,  and 
he  still  held  in  his  hand  a  tiny  locket  of  gold  in 
closing  a  miniature  of  a  sweet,  thoughtful  face, 
crowned  by  smooth  bands  of  hair  in  the  quaint 
fashion  of  days  long  departed. 

In  the  village  the  old  church  bell  was  tolling 
with  long,  solemn,  dragging  tones.  And  a  man 
said,  "He  was  a  great  lawyer."  And  a  mother 
said,  "He  must  have  had  a  great  sorrow."  But  a 
child  wept,  and,  climbing  to  its  mother's  lap,  hid 
its  face  in  her  breast,  afraid  of  the  solemn  tones 
of  the  bell.  But  the  Squire  still  smiled,  for  he  had 
gone  to  meet  a  child. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

AN    ENLIGHTENMENT 

IT  was  a  week  later,  and  Sam  stood  leaning 
against  the  mantel  in  the  sitting-room  of  the 
Squire's  house.  In  a  rocker  by  the  table,  her  face 
pale  and  worn,  her  eyes  large  and  dark-circled, 
sat  Polly,  a  pale,  little,  pitiful  figure. 

Sam  had  just  finished  reading  to  her  a  copy  of 
the  Squire's  will,  in  which  he  had  bequeathed 
everything  to  Polly,  in  terms  of  such  affection 
and  trust  that  she  was  again  overcome  with 
grief. 

In  addition  to  this  he  had  made  Sam  his  ex 
ecutor  and  charged  him  with  the  care,  main 
tenance,  and  education  of  Polly,  and  in  spite  of 
their  deep  grief  at  losing,  the  one  a  father,  the 
other  a  nearest  friend,  the  latter  clause  in  the 
will  had  made  it  a  bit  awkward  for  them.  At 
heart  it  was  what  they  both  wished.  To  Sam  the 
associations  with  Polly  that  his  new  duties  pro 
mised,  opened  the  doors  of  paradise  to  him,  while 
to  Polly,  longing  and  yearning  for  some  one  on 
whom  to  lean  and  weep  out  her  heart  and  be 
comforted,  it  meant  rest  and  happiness.  But 
Sam  felt  that  she  would  have  had  it  different,  and 


410  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

she  felt  that  Sam  undertook  it  simply  as  a  duty 
to  his  old  friend,  and  they  were  both  reserved  and 
constrained. 

Sam  had  put  in  a  week  of  the  hardest  work. 
From  early  morning  until  late  at  night  he  had 
examined  papers,  talked  with  clients,  made 
arrangements  for  the  funeral,  answered  letters, 
sent  and  received  telegrams,  and  had  spent  every 
moment  possible  in  trying  to  make  Polly  com 
fortable. 

Everybody  had  been  kind,  and  scores  had 
offered  their  services  and  their  help,  and  the 
house  and  office  had  been  besieged  by  those  anx 
ious  to  help  and  advise. 

Miss  Ellis  had  been  Sam's  most  efficient 
helper.  She  had  gone  straight  to  Polly,  and  had 
taken  charge  of  her  and  of  the  house,  had  inter 
viewed  callers,  dismissed  without  ceremony  those 
who  came  out  of  curiosity,  and  taken  the  poor 
little  girl  to  her  heart  like  a  little  child  and  com 
forted  her  like  a  mother,  while  Sam,  embarrassed, 
uncertain,  and  with  his  heart  torn  by  her  grief, 
left  her  to  Miss  Ellis,  and  plunged  into  the  settle 
ment  of  the  Squire's  affairs.  The  Captain,  the 
Senator,  their  sister,  J.  Wadlin  and  his  wife,  good 
old  Doctor  Barry  and  his  sister-in-law,  had  all 
urged  Polly  to  come  and  make  a  home  with  them, 
but  she  had  refused. 

And  now  she  sat  there  by  the  table,  silent, 


AN  ENLIGHTENMENT  411 

uneasy,  distraught,  waiting  and  hoping  for  some 
word  that  would  show  that  she  had  a  guardian 
and  a  friend  instead  of  a  mere  business  trustee  but 
Sam  was  silent. 

There  was  an  awkward  pause.  A  burned  stick 
broke  in  the  fire  place.  Without  the  nine  o'clock 
bell  rang  its  warning.  Sam  replaced  the  copy  of 
the  will  in  his  bag,  and  drew  out  a  sealed  envelope. 

"Polly,"  he  said  gently. 

"Well,  Sam,  what  is  it?"  she  asked  in  a  low 
voice. 

"Did  you  ever  know,  Polly,  that  Mr.  Branch 
had  a  secret  in  his  life?  A  secret  sorrow  that  wore 
on  him?" 

Polly  glanced  up  sharply.  "'Yes,  Sam,  I  knew 
there  was  something,"  she  said.  "Why  do  you 
speak  of  it  now?  Did  he  ever  mention  it  to 

you?" 

"  No,  Polly,  he  never  did.  But  on  one  occasion 
Doctor  Barry  spoke  of  a  great  sorrow  in  Mr. 
Branch's  life,  and  said  he  knew  it  and  that  he  was 
the  only  one  who  knew  it,  and  I  think  he  is  the 
only  one,  now  at  least." 

"Why  do  you  say  'now  at  least'?"  asked 
Polly.  "Do  you  think  any  one  else  knew  it?" 

''Yes, "  answered  Sam,  "  I  think  Simpson  knew 
it,"  and  his  voice  took  on  a  deep  tone  of  anger. 

"I  think  so  too,"  said  Polly. 

"Another  reason  I  speak  of  it  now,  is  because  I 


412  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

can  find  out  his  secret  by  merely  opening  this 
letter." 

"Oh,"  said  Polly  with  a  gasp,  "  what  do  you 
mean,  Sam?" 

"Just  this,  Polly,  I  found  this  sealed  letter  with 
his  will  with  the  words  written  on  the  enclosure, 
'  If  my  Executor  and  my  dear  niece  Polly  wish  to 
know  something  that  may  explain  acts  of  mine 
that  may  have  seemed  inexplicable  to  them,  they 
can  break  this  seal  and  read  the  enclosed  state 
ment.  If  they  read  it  I  only  ask  that  they  keep 
it  a  secret  as  it  has  been  kept  for  many  weary 
years.  IRA  BRANCH." 

Polly  took  the  letter,  read  the  words,  and  the 
tears  welled  to  her  eyes. 

Finally  Sam  said,  "Polly,  do  you  wish  to 
know?" 

"No,  Sam,  I  only  know  that  Uncle  Ira  was  the 
best,  the  kindest,  the  dearest  man  that  ever 
lived,"  and  she  burst  into  tears  again. 

Sam  waited  until  she  had  composed  herself  and 
then  said,  "Polly,  I  feel  as  you  do.  Shall  we  burn 
it?" 

"Yes,  do  please,  Sam,"  she  answered. 

Sam  laid  the  letter  on  the  coals,  took  the  bel 
lows  and  blew  it  into  a  bright  flame.  Together 
they  watched  it  until  it  crumbled  to  glowing 
curls,  which  Sam  poked  and  pounded  until  it  was 
a  fine  white  ash. 


AN  ENLIGHTENMENT  413 

Polly  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  almost 
smiled.  "Good-night,  Sam," she  said,  "that  was 
best,  was  n't  it?  " 

"  Good-night,  Polly,  I  know  we  have  done  as  he 
would  have  wished,"  replied  Sam,  as  he  ran  down 
the  steps. 

The  weeks  passed  and  Sam  still  worked,  driv 
ing  himself  without  stint.  He  missed  the  Squire 
dreadfully.  The  office  seemed  empty,  despite  the 
stream  of  clients  that  came.  Every  morning  he 
ran  up  to  the  house  to  see  Polly,  every  night  he 
went  there  immediately  after  supper.  If  it  was 
pleasant,  he  hooked  up  the  horse  and  sent  Miss 
Ellis  and  Polly  for  a  ride.  Polly  had  never  asked 
him  to  go,  although  Miss  Ellis  kept  discreetly  in 
the  background.  Nor  had  Sam  offered,  for  he 
took  Polly's  aloofness  as  an  indication  that  she 
did  not  wish  him  to  go.  So,  although  keenly  dis 
appointed,  he  would  go  back  to  the  office  and  dig 
into  his  books  and  accounts. 

At  the  end  of  three  weeks  Polly  was  invited  to 
New  York  by  Mrs.  Anderson,  the  wife  of  the 
lawyer  with  whom  the  Squire  had  had  many 
business  transactions.  Miss  Ellis,  who  had  been, 
as  she  afterwards  said,  "getting  madder  and 
madder  with  Sam  Randolph,"  urged  her  to  go, 
and  Sam,  although  it  cut  him  deeply  to  lose  her, 
joined  his  advice  to  that  of  Miss  Ellis. 

Poor  Polly,  she  did  not  wish  to  go,  and  she  en- 


414  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

tirely  misunderstood  Sam's  motives.  She  was 
alone  in  the  world.  Her  dear  father,  the  only 
father  she  ever  knew,  was  dead,  and  Sam  had 
tired  of  her.  All  he  wanted  was  his  books,  and 
his  work,  and  his  politics,  and  his  gymnasium 
friends,  and  fighting  with  roughs.  Of  course  he 
did  n't  care  for  her.  She  would  go  to  New  York 
and  try  to  forget  Elmtown  and  all  the  people  in 
it,  —  that  is,  all  but  the  people  who  had  been 
kind  to  her. 

So  Miss  Polly  visibly  cheered  up,  and  in  Sam's 
presence  talked  quite  enthusiastically  of  her 
visit,  and  the  probability  of  living  there  forever, 
and  asked  Sam  particularly  about  what  he  would 
advise  her  to  do  in  New  York  the  next  winter. 
That  she  wanted  to  take  up  some  work  to  enable 
her  to  forget  Elmtown,  and  then  she  cried  and 
put  her  arms  around  Miss  Ellis's  neck,  and  Sam, 
after  waiting  miserably  until  she  recovered,  bade 
her  good-night  and  went  to  the  stable,  saddled 
his  horse  and  rode  him  to  a  lather. 

Polly  was  to  go  on  the  three  o'clock  train  Tues 
day  afternoon.  Sam  had  procured  her  tickets, 
furnished  her  with  plenty  of  money,  and  had 
made  all  arrangements  for  her  comfort.  His 
method  was  prompt  and  a  trifle  brusque,  for  he 
invaded  the  Pullman,  and,  taking  the  porter  by 
the  collar,  he  said,  "Tom,  next  Tuesday  my  old 
partner's  daughter  is  going  to  New  York  in  your 


AN  ENLIGHTENMENT  415 

car,  seat  number  5.  Here  is  two  dollars.  She  will 
write  me  about  her  trip.  If  you  do  the  right  thing, 
I  will  give  you  five  dollars  more.  If  not,  you 
will  lose  your  five  dollars  and  I  will  take  about 
twenty -five  dollars'  worth  out  of  your  hide.  Do 
you  understand?" 

"Ah  unnerstan',  boss,  suah.  Ah  shall  get  dem 
ar  fi'  dollars,"  said  Tom,  smiling  a  flashing  smile 
of  white  teeth  and  good  humor. 

As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  Sam  had  business  out 
of  town  the  next  Tuesday,  and,  although  he  tried 
vainly  to  expedite  it,  he  did  not  return  till  long 
after  the  train  had  departed.  This  was  really 
too  much  for  Polly,  and  she  departed  with  her 
head  in  the  air,  never  as  much  as  asking  for  Sam. 

After  her  departure  the  work  in  the  office  went 
on.  Sam  worked  and  rode  and  exercised  as  be 
fore,  but  without  interest  or  pleasure.  He  began 
to  get  short-tempered.  His  appetite  began  to 
fail  him.  He  never  before  noticed  how  greedy, 
grasping,  and  penurious  country  people  were. 
How  given  to  tittle-tattle  and  scandal!  How 
deadly  uninteresting!  New  York  began  to  de 
velop  charm  for  him  that  it  never  had  before. 
But  no,  he  would  not  go  there.  If  he  left  Elm- 
town  he  would  go  West  and  begin  again.  What 
was  the  use  of  slaving  for  a  paltry  living?  If  the 
Squire  had  lived,  it  would  have  been  different. 
Oh,  if  the  Squire  had  only  lived! 


416  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

Sam  wrote  regularly  to  Polly.  The  writing  of 
these  letters  was  the  only  bright  spot  in  the 
week.  Occasionally  she  answered  them.  Bright, 
lively  letters,  but  sounding  to  Sam  as  if  she  were 
glad  to  be  away  from  Elmtown.  Sam  let  Miss 
Ellis  read  them.  Miss  Ellis  smiled  grimly.  She 
had  received  a  few  from  Polly,  and  between  the 
lines  she  had  read  that  Polly  was  eating  her  heart 
out  for  home.  Miss  Ellis  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
At  heart  she  feared  Sam  as  much  as  she  liked  and 
admired  him,  and  she  knew  that  his  natural  re 
serve  seldom  tolerated  interference  in  his  affairs. 

Sam  had  sent  on  Polly's  pony,  with  saddle  and 
bridle,  for  Tom  was  riding  with  her  in  the  park. 
Sam  gritted  his  teeth.  Tom  always  had  every 
thing  he  wished.  Everything  came  to  Tom,  - 
money,  friends,  amusement,  happiness,  love, 
while  he  —  well,  he  bid  fair  to  lose  everything,  as 
he  had  lost  his  best  friend.  Even  Bob  Tiverton 
had  got  what  he  had  so  ardently  wished,  so  long 
ago.  And  Bob  Tiverton  had  about  everything 
but  reputation.  Well,  he  did  n't  envy  Bob,  but 
he  did  envy  almost  every  one  else. 

A  few  days  after  this  Sam  received  another 
letter  from  Polly,  written  in  a  much  more  cheer 
ful  vein,  telling  him  of  everyday  rides  with  Tom. 
How  beautiful  the  park  looked!  What  splendid 
horses!  What  groups  of  children  on  beautiful 
ponies,  with  grooms  in  livery!  What  splendid 


AN  ENLIGHTENMENT  417 

riders  on  hunters  and  park  hacks !  Most  of  them 
knew  Tom  and  came  over  to  be  introduced,  and 
had  asked  to  ride  with  her,  but  she  had  refused 
because  she  had  promised  Tom  to  ride  with  him, 
and  he  rode  so  well,  and  was  so  handsome  and  so 
pleasant  and  so  amusing.  And  then  Frisk  was  a 
great  attraction,  too,  because  he  was  so  plump 
and  handsome  and  so  easy.  And  Tom  had  prom 
ised  that  some  day  she  should  ride  his  best  horse 
after  he  had  ridden  him  a  little  longer. 

Sam  dashed  down  the  letter  and  muttered  a 
hearty  malediction.  Tom!  Tom!  Tom!  nothing 
but  Tom.  Tom  was  everything.  Here  he  was 
working  his  eyes  out  to  straighten  her  affairs,  and 
all  he  got  for  it  was  letters  about  Tom.  It  was 
outrageous.  Well,  he  would  break  himself  of  his 
insane  infatuation.  She  was  n't  for  him,  and  he 
ought  to  have  known  it.  Damn  Tom!  and  damn 
the  luck !  and  damn  everything  anyway !  —  and 
Sam  opened  a  drawer,  thrust  in  the  letter, 
slammed  the  drawer  to  with  most  unnecessary 
vigor,  locked  it,  and  sat  down  at  his  desk  with  a 
violence  that  fairly  jarred  the  building,  and  be 
gan  to  sort  and  read  his  mail.  After  a  while  his 
trained  mind  began  to  work  on  his  professional 
duties  and  everything  went  smoothly,  until  a 
client  arrived  whom  Sam  positively  detested. 
He  was  a  very  sanctimonious  old  chap,  penuri 
ous,  rich,  and  very  insistent,  and  it  was  the  last 


418  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

straw.  Within  a  few  minutes  of  his  arrival  he 
left  hastily  and  very  much  discomfited  after  a 
most  tremendous  dressing-down  that  Sam  had 
given  him,  while  Sam  was  striding  up  and  down 
the  office  raging  at  the  disparity  in  age  that  pre 
vented  him  from  locking  the  door  and  adminis 
tering  a  sound  thrashing  to  the  old  man. 

While  he  was  fuming,  Miss  Ellis  came  in  and 
sat  down  at  her  desk.  She  was  reading  a  letter 
and  scarcely  noticed  Sam,  who  had  sunk  down  in 
his  chair  in  utter  dejection,  chewing  on  an  un- 
lighted  cigar.  His  hat  was  tipped  over  his  fore 
head,  his  legs  stretched  at  full  length  and  resting 
on  his  heels,  his  head  sunk  between  his  shoulders, 
and  his  eyes  staring  into  the  distance.  Miss 
Ellis  finished  her  letter  and  glanced  up,  and  her 
mouth  tightened  as  a  look  of  grim  determination 
came  over  her  face. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  walked  with  quick, 
snappy  steps  across  the  room.  "Sam  Randolph, 
I  want  to  read  part  of  a  letter  to  you.  It  may  be 
interesting  to  you,  that  is,  if  you  can  get  your 
mind  off  this  dingy  old  office  long  enough." 

Sam  sat  up  in  surprise.  He  had  never  heard  a 
tone  of  voice  like  that  from  her. 

"I'll  read  only  the  last  part.  —  It  is  from 
Polly,  bless  her  dear  little  heart,"  and  Miss  Ellis 
gulped  and  choked  for  a  moment  before  she  could 
go  on. 


AN  ENLIGHTENMENT  419 

"  *  Oh,  Miss  Ellis,  what  shall  I  do?  Tom  pro 
posed  to  me  yesterday,  in  the  park.  We  were 
riding,  and  all  of  a  sudden  he  caught  my  hand 
and  proposed.  I  like  him,  oh!  so  much,  and  he 
has  been  so  kind  and  so  good  to  me.  It  really 
seems  to  me  that  he  understands  me  better  than 
any  one  but  you.  But,  Miss  Ellis,  I  don't  love 
him.  I  don't  love  him !  and  a  girl  ought  not  to 
marry  a  man  unless  she  loves  him,  ought  she? 
I  told  him  so,  and  he  says  I  can  learn  to  love 
him,  and  he  wanted  me  to  be  engaged  to  him. 
What  shall  I  do?  He  will  ask  me  again,  and  I 
just  can't  love  him.  Miss  Ellis,  I  will  tell  you 
what  neither  you  nor  any  one  else  ever  suspected 
-  I  love  somebody  else!  and  he  does  n't  care  a 
penny  about  me !  Is  n't  that  a  humiliating  con 
fession  for  a  girl  to  make.  I  would  n't  tell  any  one 
but  you,  now  Uncle  Ira  is  dead.  Dear  Uncle,  if  he 
were  only  here.  Oh,  I  am  so  lonely!  so  awfully 
lonely!  and  homesick!  I  must  come  home!  I 
shall  do  something  dreadful  if  I  don't.  Can't  you 
come,  Miss  Ellis?'" 

'There,  what  do  you  think  of  that,  Sam  Ran 
dolph?"  demanded  Miss  Ellis  dramatically. 

Sam's  face  was  white  and  drawn.  "Poor  little 
girl,"  he  said  huskily.  "  So  it's  some  one  else,  is  it? 
Poor  Tom,  it 's  a  blow  to  him,  if  he  feels  half  as 
badly  about  losing  her  as  I  do.  By  the  Eter 
nal,"  he  blazed  suddenly,  "if  any  one  has  led  that 


420  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

little  girl  on  to  love  him  and  then  has  disap 
pointed  her,  I  '11  — "  and  his  chest  swelled  and 
his  eyes  narrowed  to  slits. 

"You'll  what?  What  will  you  do?"  demanded 
Miss  Ellis  scornfully. 

"Why  I'll  mop  the  entire  length  of  Fifth  Av 
enue  with  his  worthless  hide,"  said  Sam  in  a 
passion. 

"Well,  somebody  has  done  just  that,  and  I 
know  who,  and  Fifth  Avenue  is  n't  half  long 
enough  to  do  him  justice,"  said  Miss  Ellis,  her 
mouth  closing  like  a  steel  trap. 

"Miss  Ellis,"  said  Sam,  slowly  and  through 
his  teeth,  "if  you  know  who  has  hurt  that  little 
girl,  tell  me  now,  at  once,  and  without  any  more 
talk,  and  I  '11  go  straight  to  New  York,  and  when 
I  get  through  with  him  there  won't  be  enough 
left  of  him  to  fill  a  garbage  can." 

"You  won't  have  to  go  to  New  York,  Sam 
Randolph,  not  out  of  this  town,"  said  Miss  Ellis 
tauntingly. 

"What!  he  lives  here?  Here  in  Elmtown?" 

"Yes." 

"Can  you  point  him  out  to  me?" 

"Yes." 

"And  will  you?" 

"I  most  certainly  will." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"Who  is  he?  Well,  I'll  precious  soon  tell  you 


AN  ENLIGHTENMENT  421 

who  he  is,  Sam  Randolph,"  said  Miss  Ellis,  snip 
ing  her  words  out  like  the  clip  of  scissors.  "It  is 
you!  Sam  Randolph,  you!  who  have  hurt  that 
little  girl.  Now,  do  you  know?" 

Sam  started  back  in  astonishment. 

"Me!"  he  burst  out  explosively  and  ungram 
matically.  :'You  are  crazy!  absolutely  insane! 
Polly  dislikes  me." 

"Sam  Randolph!  For  a  man  who  is  supposed 
to  have  common  sense,  you  are  the  biggest  fool 
I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  The  very  biggest.  A 
great  hulking,  muddle-headed  gump  without 
brains  enough  to  fit  out  a  woodchuck.  Don't  you 
know  that  that  dear  little  girl  has  just  about  wor 
shiped  you  ever  since  you  came  here?  Have  n't 
you  had  any  eyes  or  ears  or  sense?  Have  n't  you 
seen  her  dear  little  face  light  up  every  time  you 
came  in  sight?  Do  you  suppose  a  great,  big, 
splendid,  worthless,  good-natured,  masterful, 
conceited  donkey  of  a  man  coming  into  a  town 
like  this  would  n't  have  some  effect  on  a  little 
country  girl?  What  do  you  suppose  she  rode  her 
pony  and  whipped  and  spurred  him  until  he  was 
all  covered  with  welts  and  blood  for,  the  night 
you  were  hurt,  and  she  never  struck  him  a  blow 
in  her  life  before,  and  cried  about  it  for  days," 
and  Miss  Ellis  began  to  cry  too. 

"But,  Miss  Ellis,  I  tried  to  thank  her  for  that 
very  thing,  and  I  never  was  so  snubbed  in  my  life." 


422  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

"Snubbed!"  cried  Miss  Ellis,  her  tears  drying 
as  if  by  magic;  "of  course  you  were  snubbed,  and 
properly  enough,  too.  What!  do  you  men  sup 
pose  that  a  right-minded  girl  is  going  to  throw 
herself  at  your  feet?  Oh,  you  blind,  ignorant, 
conceited  men,  you  don't  deserve  anything.  I 
never  saw  one  of  you  who  amounted  to  anything 
who  knew  a  thing  about  women.  And  you  would 
have  lost  her  forever  if  I  had  n't  been  here  to 
open  your  eyes,  and  you  will  now  if  you  waste 
any  more  time,  you  stupid,  utterly  stupid  mole." 

Sam  snatched  out  his  watch.  It  was  8.45.  He 
tore  off  his  office  coat,  rushed  to  the  closet  and 
squirmed  into  his  street  jacket,  rushed  to  the 
window  and  hailed  a  passing  team.  Then  to  the 
safe,  whisked  open  a  drawer,  and  stuffed  a  huge 
roll  of  bills  in  his  pocket. 

"Where  under  the  sun  are  you  going?" 
screamed  Miss  Ellis. 

"To  New  York,  —  where  do  you  suppose?" 
snapped  Sam. 

"What  for?" 

"For  Polly, "he  shouted. 

"Bless  the  man,"  gasped  Miss  Ellis,  "you 
don't  mean  to  tell  her  what  I  have  told  you?" 

"Of  course,  why  not?"  he  retorted. 

"Oh,  you  idiot,  you  idiot.  Do  you  want 
her?" 

"Want  her!"  said  Sam;  "I  'd  give  my  life  for 


AN  ENLIGHTENMENT  423 

her.  Want  her!"  he  choked,  and  could  say  no 
more. 

"Then,  for  Heaven's  sake,  tell  her  so.  Don't 
for  a  moment  let  her  know  that  you  think  she 
loves  you.  If  you  do,  she  will  never  marry  you. 
She  is  the  proudest  girl  in  the  country.  Tell  her 
you  can't  get  along  without  her,  that  you  must 
have  her,  can't  live  without  her.  Don't  you  see? 
It  must  come  from  you.  Oh,  Sam  Randolph,  you 
need  a  guardian  if  ever  a  man  did,"  gasped  Miss 
Ellis,  struggling  with  a  wild  desire  to  laugh  as 
Sam  tore  round  trying  his  keys  on  the  closet 
door.  Perdition !  he  had  lost  the  key.  Crash !  he 
had  wrenched  the  door  from  its  hinges,  seized  his 
grip  and  darted  for  the  stairway. 

"But,  Sam,  the  office!"  screamed  Miss  Ellis. 

"Hang  the  office,"  he  roared. 

"But  what  shall  I  tell  the  clients?" 

"Tell  them  to  go  to  the  Devil,"  yelled  Sam, 
going  down  the  stairs  in  long  leaps. 

Suddenly  the  door  burst  open  again. 

"Miss  Ellis,  God  bless  you,  I  have  n't  thanked 
you,"  and  in  a  moment  that  prim  maiden  found 
herself  crushed  in  an  iron  grasp,  tossed  in  the 
air  like  a  child,  and  kissed  with  a  report  that  rang 
out  like  the  explosion  of  a  paper  bag,  and  Sam 
was  gone,  and  the  rattle  of  wheels,  the  crack  of 
a  whip,  and  the  sounds  of  galloping  hoofs  died 
away,  while  Miss  Ellis  alternately  laughed  and 


424  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

cried  until  a  sturdy,  middle-aged  man  entered,  at 
which  apparition  she  started  up  with  a  scream  and 
a  beaming  face. 

"What  has  come  over  Sam?"  he  queried.  "I 
met  him  on  the  stairs  and  he  nearly  jumped  over 
my  head  and  went  off  like  a  man  escaping  jail." 

"Oh  Ben!  Ben!"  she  cried.  "You  ought  to 
4  have  been  here.  He  has  been  nearly  crazy  for 
Polly  and  she  for  him,  and  neither  knew  the 
other  loved  him  or  her  or  it,  —  what  am  I  say 
ing?  —  and  I  talked  to  him  dreadfully,  and  he 
rushed  for  his  hat  and  coat  and  kissed  me  as  loud 
as  a  pistol  and  has  gone  for  the  train.  —  Did  you 
ever?" 

"No,"  said  Ben  gravely,  but  with  a  twinkle  in 
his  eye,  "but  I  am  going  to  now";  and  for  the 
second  time  that  day  Miss  Ellis  was  crushed  in  a 
bear's  hug  and  kissed,  but  this  time  it  took 
longer  and  she  did  n't  resist. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

JUDGMENT    FOR    THE    PLAINTIFF 

THE  train  rattled  and  roared  and  thundered 
along,  swaying  round  curves,  clashing  hor 
ribly  over  interwoven  tracks,  shrieking  hide 
ously  at  crossings,  and  smoking  chokingly  in 
tunnels.  Sam  had  caught  the  Limited,  but  his 
anxiety  was  such  that  it  seemed  to  crawl.  He 
turned  and  twisted  uneasily  in  his  luxurious  seat; 
he  went  to  the  smoker  and  puffed  countless 
cigars,  and  then  to  the  lavatory,  where  he  washed 
his  face  and  hands  and  rinsed  his  mouth  so  as  to 
rid  himself  as  much  as  possible  of  the  smell  of 
tobacco.  He  bought  books  and  magazines  and 
daily  papers,  tried  to  read  them  and  flung  them 
aside.  He  paced  up  and  down  the  centre  of  the 
car,  until  he  attracted  the  attention  of  his  fellow 
passengers.  He  took  a  little  girl  on  his  lap  and 
told  her  endless  stories,  and  while  doing  this 
calmed  his  impatience  perceptibly. 

But  at  last  the  train  crawled  into  the  Grand 
Central  Station,  and,  hastily  handing  a  dollar  to 
the  porter,  he  seized  his  grip  and  sprang  from  the 
train  as  soon  as  the  vestibule  door  opened, 
nearly  crushing  the  grinning  porter.  He  rushed 


426  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

to  the  street,  hailed  a  cab,  threw  in  his  grip,  gave 
an  address  to  the  driver,  sprang  in,  and  away  he 
went.  On  the  way  he  tried  to  lay  out  a  plan  of 
campaign,  and  to  obey  the  commands,  for  they 
were  commands,  of  Miss  Ellis.  And  now  his 
heart  began  to  fail  him,  for  what  if  she  should 
refuse  him?  What  if  he  should  find  Tom  there, 
and  he  should  be  too  late.  He  looked  at  his 
dusty,  dingy  clothes.  Why  had  n't  he  the  sense 
to  have  that  infernal  nigger  brush  him?  "Here, 
driver,  stop  at  the  next  hotel  and  let  me  out  a 
moment,"  but  the  driver  had  drawn  up  at  a 
plain  brownstone  house. 

For  a  moment  Sam  felt  his  courage  oozing 
away,  and  then,  for  he  had  a  way  of  riding 
straight  at  his  fences,  he  walked  deliberately  up 
the  steps  and  rang  the  bell.  A  trim  maid  an 
swered  the  bell,  and  Sam  asked  for  Polly.  Yes, 
she  was  in.  Who  should  she  say  wished  to  see 
her.  Sam  strode  in.  "  You  need  n't  say  who,  but 
I  think  —  that  is,  I  hope  —  she  will  be  glad  to 
see  me,'*  and  he  followed  her  into  a  reception 
room. 

Sam  waited.  He  heard  a  door  close  somewhere 
in  the  regions  above,  then  a  light  step  descending 
the  stairs.  The  curtains  were  parted  and  —  it 
was  Polly.  At  seeing  Sam  she  started,  paled,  and 
her  hands  went  to  her  heart. 

Sam  was  across  the  room  in  a  stride  and  caught 


JUDGMENT  FOR  THE   PLAINTIFF    427 

her  hands.  "Polly!"  he  said,  with  his  soul  in  his 
eyes. 

But  Polly  had  recovered  herself.  "Why,  Mr. 
Randolph,  how  you  startled  me.  Really  you 
should  have  sent  up  your  card.  We  are  not  in 
Elmtown,  now.  How  is  that  funny  little  town 
and  everybody  in  it?"  and  she  tried  to  withdraw 
her  hands. 

"Polly,  don't  play  with  me.  I've  come  for 
you,  Polly;  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer;  you  must 
come  with  me;  I  - 

"Now,  Mr.  Randolph,  how  perfectly  unrea 
sonable  of  you.  Just  as  I  am  having  a  perfectly 
delightful  time,  and  going  everywhere,  and 
everybody  so  kind  to  me,  you  come  here  and 
demand  of  me  to  leave  it  all  and  to  go  back  to 
Elmtown.  Really,  I  never  heard  a  more  ridicu 
lous  proposition  in  my  life.  But  these  country 
people  are  so  ridiculous,"  and  she  smiled  up  at 
Sam  with  amiable  unconcern.  "Now,  Mr.  Ran 
dolph,  if  you  have  no  further  use  for  my  hands, 
and  as  I  may  find  them  useful  here  in  New  York, 
and  as  you  are  hurting  me,  would  you  mind  re 
leasing  them?"  she  continued. 

Sam  dropped  her  hands  and  looked  at  her 
with  the  color  slowly  receding  from  his  face,  and 
the  light  dying  out  of  his  eyes. 

"I  ought  not  to  have  come,  Polly.  I  might 
have  known  that  you  never  could  love  a  chap 


428  A   COUNTRY  LAWYER 

like  me.  God  knows  you  have  showed  it  plainly 
enough  in  the  last  few  months.  However,  Polly,  I 
love  you,  and  always  shall,  but  I'll  never  bother 
you  again.  Good-by,  Polly,"  and  he  turned. 

Polly  started,  and  a  crimson  flush  spread  over 
her  face.  "Sam!"  she  said  sharply,-  "Sam! 
don't  go,  I  -  -  I  - 

Sam  turned  as  she  came  towards  him,  her  eyes 
shining,  her  whole  being  glowing.  "Sam,  you 
blind,  blind,  stupid  boy,  did  n't  you  know?  Oh, 
Sam!"  and  her  soft  arms  went  round  his  neck  as 
he  crushed  her  to  his  breast. 

In  front  of  Alvy's  livery  stable  sat  Allison, 
Newt,  Cephas,  Bige  Pickering,  Kin  Flanders, 
and  several  other  worthies,  smoking,  chewing, 
and  discussing  matters  of  common  interest  in 
their  usually  frank  and  free  fashion.  Summer 
had  come,  and  the  beautiful  drooping  elms 
arched  the  streets  with  a  cool  green  canopy.  In 
the  quiet  square  the  fountain  sprayed  and 
splashed.  On  its  slippery  rim  crowded  a  row  of 
twittering,  dripping  sparrows.  The  pulsating 
hum  of  the  mill  throbbed  in  the  distance.  Sleepy 
horses,  tethered  to  posts,  stood  drowsing  in  the 
sunshine.  In  the  open  stores  clerks  in  white 
jackets  lounged,  while  young  girls  in  tennis 
shoes  and  white  dresses  sat  at  the  soda  fountains 
and  sipped  many -colored  decoctions. 


JUDGMENT  FOR  THE  PLAINTIFF    429 

Down  the  street  came  two  riders.  One  erect, 
broad-shouldered,  and  athletic  in  cords  and 
boots,  sat  easily  a  splendid  chestnut  horse  that 
arched  its  neck  and  champed  its  bit.  The  other, 
a  beautiful  girl  in  a  gray  habit  and  chip  hat,  sat 
a  grand  brown,  with  small  ears  and  muzzle  like 
a  fern  leaf.  Both  horses  bore  rolled  blankets 
and  saddle-bags,  while  behind,  and  following 
like  a  faithful  dog,  came  a  roan  Indian  pony, 
with  a  pack-saddle.  The  outfit  was  dusty  and 
travel-stained,  the  horses  hard  and  firm  and  in 
splendid  condition. 

The  group  in  front  of  Alvy's  looked  up  at  the 
sound  of  horses'  hoofs  and  became  excited. 

"B'goshamighty,  'tis  Mr.  Randolph,"  said 
old  Allison,  with  conviction;  "an'  yis  'tis,  'tis 
Mis  Randolph,  tew,  I  swanny  to  gorramity,"  he 
added  with  enthusiasm. 

There  was  a  sudden  scrambling  as  the  circle  of 
worthies  struggled  to  their  feet. 

"By  tunk,"  said  Cephas,  "they  be  a-comin* 
straight  yere,  hell-bent." 

"I  knowed  th'  would,"  exulted  Newt;  "th' 
aint  nothin'  stuck  up  'baout  Sam,  ner  Mrs. 
Sam  nuther;  gosh!  see  'em  come!" 

The  riders,  seeing  the  old  boys  drawn  up  to 
receive  them,  touched  their  horses  with  the 
spur,  and  swept  down  upon  the  group  at  a  gal 
lop,  closely  followed  by  the  little  roan.  Arriving, 


430  A  COUNTRY  LAWYER 

they  dre^r  up  magnificently,  the  horses  arching 
their  necks  under  the  curb. 

Sam  was  off  his  horse  almost  before  it  stopped. 
"Boys,"  he  said,  "this  is  good  of  you  to  meet  us 
this  way,"  and  he  wrung  their  hands,  "Let  me 
present  my  wife,  Polly." 

The  rough  old  men  —  hatless,  coatless,  collar- 
less,  frowsy  —  surrounded  Polly's  horse,  extend 
ing  their  horny,  discolored,  and  shaking  hands, 
which  Polly  grasped,  her  eyes  beaming  a  welcome. 

"Oh,  you  dear  old  men!  if  you  only  knew  how 
glad  I  am  to  see  you  again.  Sam  has  told  me  how 
good  you  have  been  to  him,  and  how  you  are  such 
friends  of  his." 

"We  be,  Mis  Randolph,  we  be,  every  dummed 
son-of-a-gun  of  us,"  said  old  Allison;  "ain't 
we,  Newt?" 

"Hell,  yes!  ma-am;  that  is  —  ah!  —  you  bet 
yer  boots  we  be,"  he  stammered  in  some  con 
fusion. 

Polly  laughed  in  delight.  "And  you  will  all 
come  and  see  us?"  she  asked. 

"We  will,  you  bet  yer  sweet  life,"  they  yelled 
like  a  well-trained  chorus. 

Sam  swung  to  his  horse,  lifted  the  reins,  and 
away  they  dashed,  the  little  roan  with  his  nose 
between  their  saddles.  As  they  thundered  down 
the  street,  smiling  faces  nodded  and  friendly  hands 
waved  from  doors,  windows,  and  porches.  They 


JUDGMENT  FOR  THE  PLAINTIFF    431 

pulled  up  at  the  old  house,  dismounted,  and  led 
their  horses  in  at  the  gate. 

Polly  stood  a  moment  looking  at  the  house, 
her  soul  in  her  eyes.  "Sam,"  she  said,  "it  seems 
as  if  dear  Uncle  Ira  were  here." 

"He  is,  Polly,  he  is,  and  I  know  he  always 
will  be,"  said  Sam,  deeply  moved. 

"Oh,  Sam,"  she  said,  "it  is  good  to  be  at 
home."  And  her  bright  head  lay  on  his  shoulder 
as  they  went  up  the  steps  together. 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .    S    .    A 


THE  CORNER  OF 
HARLEY  STREET 

Being  some  familiar  correspondence  of 

PETER  HARDING,  M.D. 

"A  fair  criticism,  a  complete  defence,  and  some 
high  praise  of  the  doctoring  trade."  •  —  London  Punch. 

"The  book  is  ripe,  well  written,  thoughtful,  piquant 
and  highly  human.  A  thread  of  romance  runs  happily 
through  it."  •  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"There  is  nothing  upon  which  the  genial  Dr. 
Harding  has  not  something  to  say  that  is  worth  listen 
ing  to."  — London  Daily  Mail. 

"The  publishers  of  'The  Corner  of  Harley  Street' 
are  really  justified  in  comparing  these  critical  papers 
with  Dr.  Holmes'  'The  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast 
Table.'  .  .  .  They  are  charmingly  discursive,  often 
witty,  and  always  full  of  a  genial  sympathy  with 
humanity  and  the  significant  facts  of  life." — The 
Outlook. 

$1.25  net.     Postage  n  cents. 

f$$&& 
HOUGHTON  fiSsfr  BOSTON 

MIFFLIN  /^f=\  AND 

COMPANY  &\$J  NEW  YORK 


A  MAN'S  MAN 


By  IAN  HAY 


"An  admirable  romance  of  adventure.  It  tells  of  the 
life  of  one  Hughie  Marrable,  who,  from  college  days  to 
the  time  when  fate  relented,  had  no  luck  with  women. 
The  story  is  cleverly  written  and  full  c "  sprightly 
axioms."  —  Philadelphia  Ledger. 

"  It  is  a  very  joyous  book,  and  the  writer's  powers  of 
characterization  are  much  out  of  the  common." —  The 

Dial. 

"A  good,  clean,  straightforward  bit  of  fiction,  with 
likable  people  in  it,  and  enough  action  to  keep  up  the 
suspense  throughout." — Minneapolis  Journal. 

"The  reader  will  search  contemporary  fiction  far  be 
fore  he  meets  a  novel  which  will  give  him  the  same 
frank  pleasure  and  amusement."  — London  Bookman. 

With  frontispiece.    12010,  $1.20  net.    Postage  10  cents. 


HOUGHTON  /NjS.  BOSTON 

MIFFLJN  /^fcL  AND 

COMPANY  TOira  NEW  YORK 


THE  RIGHT  STUFF 

By  IAN  HAY 

"Those  who  love  the  companionship  of  people  of  fine 
fibre,  and  to  whom  a  sense  of  humor  has  not  been 
denied,  will  make  no  mistake  in  seeking  the  society 
open  to  them  in  '  The  Right  Stuff.'  " 

New  York  Times. 

"  Hay  resembles  Barrie,  and,  like  Barrie,  he  will  grow 
in  many  ways."  —  Cleveland  Leader. 

"A  compelling  tribute  to  the  homely  genuineness  and 
sterling  worth  of  Scottish  character." 

St.  Louis  Post  Dispatch. 

"  Mr.  Hay  has  written  a  story  which  is  pure  story  and 
is  a  delight  from  beginning  to  end." 

San  Francisco  Argonaut. 

"It  would  be  hard,  indeed,  to  find  a  more  winning 
book."  —  New  Orleans  Times- Democrat. 

With  frontispiece  by  James  Montgomery  Flagg.     i2mo. 

$1.20  net.     Postage  10  cents. 


HOUGHTON  f$i»  BOSTON 

MIFFLJN  /^TN  AND 

COMPANY  €P\™  NEW  YORK 


FARMING  IT 


By  HENRY  A.  SHUTE 


"There  is  nothing  funnier  in  Mark  Twain." 

Grand  Rapids  Herald. 

"  Every  man  and  woman  who  lives,  or  ever  has  lived, 
in  the  country  will  appreciate  the  situations  described. 
.  .  .  They  are  funny  enough  to  disturb  the  calm  of  the 
most  serious  countenance." — Boston  Globe. 

"  Includes  more  fun  than  is  concealed  in  all  his  other 
books  taken  together."  —  Living'  Age. 

"The  book  is  extraordinarily  frank  .  .  .  spicy  and 
enlivening."  —  Baltimore  News. 

"  A  wholesome  and  invigorating  sort  of  book.  ...  A 
real  story  of  real  life  cheerfully  narrated." 

New  York  Times. 


Fully  illustrated  by  Reginald  B.  Birch 
1 2 mo.    $1.20  net.   Postage  12  cents 


HOUGHTON               V^C  BOSTON 

/\^3^ 

MIFFLJN                J^\W  AND 

COMPANY             rSUta  NEW  YORK 


THE  CALICO  CAT 

By  CHARLES  MINER  THOMPSON 


"  A  farce  tinged  with  demure  seriousness.  It  is  enough 
to  tell  the  reader  that  he  will  chuckle  over  'The  Calico 
Cat.'" — New  York  Tribune. 

"  There  is  a  round  of  humorous  episodes  following  one 
another  in  quick  succession  and  making  keen  enjoy 
ment  for  the  reader." — Boston  Journal. 

"  A  most  vivacious  tale.  .  .  .  The  humor  of  the  book 
is  genuine  and  quite  irresistible." — Boston  Globe. 

"  A  highly  amusing  and  ingenious  tale.  .  .  .  The 
simple  plot  is  ingenious  and  the  village  character 
types  are  varied  and  altogether  amusing."  —  Chicago 
News. 


Humorously  illustrated.   i6mo,  $1.25 


HOUGHTON  /3a».  BOSTON 

MIFFLIN  /^\W  AND 

COMPANY  (ralra  NEW  YORK 


THE  BREAKING  IN  OF  A 
YACHTSMAN'S  WIFE 

By  MARY  HEATON  VORSE 

"  Clever  !  Sparkling  !  Full  of  quaint  humor  and  crisp 
description  !  Altogether  a  book  which  will  not  disap 
point  the  reader.  It  is  'different,'  and  that  is  one  great 
merit  in  a  book."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  It  will  puzzle  holiday  makers  to  find  a  better  vacation 
book  than  this.  Those  who  go  up  and  down  the  Sound 
in  yachts  will  find  it  especially  pleasing ;  it  will  appeal 
to  those  who  are  fond  of  human  nature  studies ;  may 
be  recommended  even  more  decidedly  to  the  serious 
than  to  the  young  and  frivolous  ;  a  tonic  to  depression 
and  an  antidote  to  gloom."  —  N.  Y.  Times. 

"  Charming,  with  its  salt,  sea-slangy  flavor,  its  double 
love  thread,  and  its  pleasant  chapters  dealing  with 
Long  Island  Sound,  the  Mediterranean,  Massachusetts 
Bay  and  Venetian  lagoons. "  -  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

Illustrated  by  Reginald  Birch.   I2mo,  $1.50 


HOUGHTON  /®»  BOSTON 

MIFFLIN  /Offc  AND 

COMPANY  fe  MSI  NEW  YORK 


A     000818254     5 


